Critical Mass (WormFallout)
by PseudoSim
Summary: Monsters to the left of me. Killers to the right. And here I am, stuck in the middle with you. It's really not the best of situations, is it? Stranded, marooned in this desolate, scorched wasteland with the only law being what lies at the barrel of a gun. It's hell out there, but maybe, working together, we can make something of it.
1. 111

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.1.1

—

critical mass

: a size, number, or amount large enough to produce a particular result

—

Dropping from the Mover's arms with a splash, I ran to the roof's edge; thunder rolled and clapped in the clouds high overhead while water surged and crashed in the streets below.

The forecast had predicted there would be bad weather all down the Eastern seaboard this week. Brockton had been hit pretty badly with flooding, and Boston had suffered no differently. Only there had been _two_ storms to come to the City on The Hill.

On either side of me, Blasters and Tinkers, hero and villain alike, lined up alongside as my power leapt into my arms. Blurring black and green into a long tube, I slung my new weapon onto my shoulder as it vibrated—almost in excitement, like a living thing.

Resting the long tube on my shoulder, I peered across the street for a moment before tilting it down and taking sight as. A green, grassy soccer field covered in a few inches of water filled my vision as I only half listened to Dragon countdown the seconds to Leviathan's arrival.

Hearing her reach one, I watched as a small, feminine figure in a purple costume with white armor panels appeared at the center of the field in a small explosion. A promising young ward from New York, now Butcher XVI.

Apparently having lost her arbalest in the fighting, she had taken up the weapon of her predecessor—an oversized bow. I watched as she brought it up, an arrow already nocked as she drew back.

The countdown reached Zero and a portion of the school directly in front of the girl exploded into shrapnel and debris. An indistinct, teardrop shaped body with too long limbs emerging through the ruin of the building a moment later. Leviathan had arrived.

Shattered concrete and broken rebar flew as the Endbringer surged forward on an expanding wave of water that tore through and around the school building. Thirty feet tall and fifty from head to tail, it absolutely dwarfed and towered over the target of its ire. Whatever her original power had been, it been incredibly effective when she had been among the long range group and using it on Butcher XVI's shots.

Effective enough, that it had earned the duo the undivided attention of the Endbringer. As unfortunate as it had come about, that knowledge had made options available that had not been possible before.

Leviathan juked the instant Flechette loosed her arrow, dashing to the left. It didn't work however, the Endbringers' back knee buckled, and it slowed as the air exploded around Flechette and she teleported away.

Immediately Leviathan re-oriented, a wave of curling water curling forming under in an instant as it started moving toward wherever she had teleported to. It didn't get far.

Overhead a green cloaked figure appeared:, Eidolon. Waving his hands wide, a ripple of twisted space around Leviathan and the Endbringer was slowed to a crawl,; the ground beneath it buckling and compressing under whatever power Eidolon was using on it.

He didn't stay, though, teleporting away to hold the river and seas at bay to keep things from becoming a pyrrhic victory. But not a moment was wasted—, the instant he vanished, Alexandria and Glory Girl bore down on Leviathan before it could get back up to speed.

Double teaming it, they crashed down on it like a pair of meteors. One black and one white, they grounded the Endbringer.

The building trembled and shook violently from the impact, but I kept my footing as I shifted aim onto its center mass as Glory Girl got out of the line of fire. Alexandria remained, pinning it in place while the others moved in.

The building trembled and shook violently from the impact, but I kept my footing as I shifted aim onto its center mass as Glory Girl got out of the line of fire. Alexandria remained, pinning it in place while the shielders and Brutes moved in.

It wasn't choreographed, but everyone here knew their role.

The first to teleport in was the tall, forcefield covered figure of Narwhal. She appeared out of thin air at the edge of the field in a wisp of blue smoke with Sylvester, the imp- like Case-53 Mover sitting astride her shoulders. Waving her hands like an orchestrator, two-dimensional panes of energy sprang up around Leviathan and with the help of other forcefield users, they boxed the Endbringer in. Layer by layer.

I and every other blaster cut loose the moment the

Pulling the trigger of my rocket launcher, I and every other Blaster in the sky and on the surrounding streets and rooftops unleashed everything we had into the kill zone the moment first force field went up.

Alexandria flew out as Legend took a position high above Levithan with the rest of the flying Blasters and began raining down beams of every color and effect imaginable on the trapped Endbringer. Some froze, some burned, some bent mid-flight to hit a part of him that was out of sight, some just exploded.

With each pull, the launcher jerked against my shoulder as the rocket ignited. I reformed it in less than a second to reload, re-aim, and fire. I was able to send one HEAT round downrange every two seconds.

It was working, but lowering my launcher as I lost line of sight on Leviathan behind the barriers I parsed the area and re-assessed. The trap was going to fail. With every second that passed hundreds of thousands of gallons of water rushed into the area from every direction. Down the streets, though and over the buildings, from the storm drains it came.

It was too much, too fast. No one had believed for a moment that we'd be able to lock him for long, but the amount of water—-

A brief flash of an explosion high in the sky drew my eye as Flechette appeared, bow in hand as she loosed an arrow between a pair of flyers. It was an oblique shot, but the dart turned mid flight to arc down with the rest of the Blaster fire.

There wasn't a roar or a scream, but the very air _shook_ as she teleported away again.

" _Harlequin down, JL-4. Feral deceased, JL-4. Willow down, JL-4. Revolio deceased, JL-4. Ironsides down, JL-4."_

Ground level shielders and Blasters were washed away as the water churned and the Movers rushed in to pull them out. Cohesiveness broke and the shielders that could get out on their own scattered and fled while others, but not nearly all, were pulled from the waters.

All save Narwhal, who rose above the waters on one of her own barriers as the trap failed and for all of a moment I saw Leviathan. Curled in on itself protectively, its exposed skin a collage of damage: skin glowing red hot and steaming from the rain; some parts of its body were blackened and charred, others torn to shreds; or just completely gone, bleeding green blood freely. Then, faster than a whip crack, it uncoiled, moving no slower than before. The damage had been nothing but superficial. Cosmetic.

Reaching out it grabbed one white caped figure from the sky and dashed them to the ground while its long tail flicked out to several flyers from the sky that had strayed too close.

Only those with high enough Brute ratings escaped intact, the rest… they fell in pieces as Narwhal moved in to face off with Leviathan. She threw up a labyrinth of two-dimensional force fields around the Endbringer before lashing out directly, cutting and slashing at it. Green blood spilled as she tried to hold it off as long as she could to give the other defenders time.

Meanwhile, the water continued to surge below and the Blasters around me were pulled out. One by one, flyers picking up one's and two's while teleporters jumped in and out—

Leviathan broke with Narwhal, slipping through her force fields in some places while outright smashing his way through others. Before she could even react it left her behind, diving and disappeared into the water. The only thing betraying its location and heading being the rising swell of water that it built up in its wake as it rushed toward the building I was on.

I drew in a breath, filling my lungs and yelling a warning as loud as I could. E even as the swell crested in my periphery.

"Move!" An instant after the word left my lips it was already too late. The building shook as the surge crashed against it and Leviathan burst out of hiding a short ways away.

Unnatural, in a word. TIts too long fingers grasped the edge of the roof for a moment before it vaulted up and over the building. A wall of water flowed up in its wake before it bore down on everyone left atop the building.

" _Maser down, JL-5. Harleq—"_

I barely managed to put my hands behind my neck when the water hit me. It was violent. It pressed down on me from all sides, squeezing the life out of me as the current picked me up and slammed me down over and over again. Somewhere throughout it all, the tang of iron filled my mouth.

Then I was slammed into something, _hard_ , and the air was forced out of my lungs. In an instant, a bit of filthy, muddy water rushed in as I was picked up and thrown down again and again and again. My body screamed for release, for oxygen, for- my lips slip open and salty wetness rushes in.

My back hit the roof as it slammed me down and the air was forced out of my lungs. In an instant dirty, muddy water filled the vacuum as I was picked up and thrown down again and again and again. My body screamed. For release, for oxygen, for- my lips slipped open and cool, salty water poured in.

The world dissolved as darkness crept in and the muted rushing of the waves began anew. Overwhelming the dull, incessant throbbing in my head as they pulled- cool air and fat raindrops pelted my face. Instinctively I gasped for air but choked on the water in my lungs as I bobbed in the water. Sputtering and spitting my chest and throat burned I triedtobreathwhycouldn'tIbreath!

There was a light, somewhere, bright and blue but it faded. Black was creeping in as something caught me under my arms and pulled. Hands, pulling me out of the water and onto something hard, rough and jagged. They let go and the blue light disappeared as I toppled over and curled in on myself. Heaving and hacking my throat raw.

Pulling a knee under myself, I slowly managed to shift myself onto my hands and knees. That worked a bit better and through tear blurred eyes, I choked up water from my lungs onto broken brick and rock.

My diaphragm convulsed, contracting before violently ejecting what had to have been the last of the water in my lungs. Gasping, I sucked in a breath only for my throat to lock up and a fresh mouth of water came up until my throat and lungs burned raw as I managed to finally fill my lungs.

For a few seconds I just… knelt there, breathing, as the rain fell on me and the storm raged above. The aches and pain were so numerous they just blended together, a dull throb all across my body that would no doubt be leaving me black and blue by morning. There wasn't a single part of me that hadn't bean beaten by the water.

But it was manageable. The pain was something I was familiar with. Not being able to breathe…

M breath caught in my chest and I was left hacking a bit before it subsided. Mustering up some salt and iron-flavored saliva, I spat a wad of dirty red on the rubble that lasted but a few seconds before the rain washed it away.

Well, it also hurt to breath, but that was fine. I was alive and that's what mattered.

"Hey! Not to be an unsympathetic asshole, but are you Ok or are you gonna' just sit there? There're still others in the water!"

Through bleary eyes, I looked toward the voice to see a lanky figure a dozen yards away. Blinking, I got a better look at him: tall with matted brown hair, narrow at the shoulders and clad in a long brown coat with faded blue jeans peeking out at the ankle. He stared at me, the expectation on his face plain and clear to see without a mask in the way.

Shaking his head he turned, a bulky hard case on his back swaying as he clambered over the rubble before wading into the water. Reaching down behind a bit of concrete he lifted a person into view; a glowing, neon blue… thing, hanging off their shoulder.

He hauled the cape up onto the rubble and flipped the cape on their back, putting his head to their chest before starting chest compressions and after a few seconds the person was coughing up water. He rolled them over, staying only a few moments longer before moving on as the water a little further past him surged. A large green lizard, at least the size of a horse, crawled out of the water. It dumped someone on the rubble and the man hurried over. There was another of the blue things on their shoulder.

Spitting again, I absently wiped at my mouth. Realizing only as I did so that my bandanna had come down around my neck. Pulling it back up over my nose, I rose to my feet. I was unsteady, but using a few bigger pieces of debris I held myself up as I looked around and regained my balance… for the most part.

Scanning the area I saw Leviathans exit had—save a few shattered concrete columns from the school—all but leveled the immediate area. The school building, the building I had been on, the other building running along the length of the sports field— all had been reduced to little more than piles of rubble protruding like little islands from the water. There was no one, but as I looked around a number of the glowing spheres bobbed to the surface with, more often than not, thrashing figures accompanying them.

Survivors. And as I looked on one surfaced and a flyer descended. Reaching down, they pulled them out. The glowing sphere hanging off their shoulder like a balloon as they brought them to an island of rubble and went back out for another.

With renewed fervor I quickly cast my gaze about, scanning the murky waters in my vicinity.

Most of the spheres were further out into the water, too far out for me to reach, but— There! I locked onto a sphere as it bobbed to the surface just a little ways away with a gasping passenger and started toward them when my thigh throbbed and contracted in a cramp.

I remained unimpeded, however, and, as it always did, my weapon found its way back to me. In a kaleidoscope of black and green, it shifted into a tall quarterstaff to help steady my footing as I made my way over to the water.

Dropping the quarterstaff, I reached in and grabbed a man under his arms. The neoprene-like material of his costume squished under my fingers as I hauled him out of the water while his sun-bleached hair brushed my sash and his arms dragged limply over the rubble.

Setting him down, I checked for breath or pulse but finding neither I started compressions and flipped my mask up to perform mouth to mouth.

"One… two… three." Ducking down I pinched his nose, tilted his head back, and breathed into his mouth. It was practically murder on my lungs, but I kept it up. Sitting back up I pressed my hands down on his chest and began compressions again. "One… Two…" Water spurt from of the man's mouth and he sat up, pushing me aside as he staggered and grabbed at some of the rubble. Coughing up water as he cleared his lungs.

I took the moment to flip my bandanna back down.

Moving slowly, the man mumbled his thanks as he sat down on a pile of bricks. Arms on knees as he caught his breath while I looked around for anyone else close by. Fortunately, however, it seemed in the time I'd pulled the man out, the other rescue personnel had pulled out everyone else they could. There weren't as many rescued as there had been down on the ground, and there were a number of limp forms lying among the rubble; parts of them running red in the rain… But it was better than one could have hoped for otherwise.

The sky— _boomed_! —Overhead as thunder clapped, and looking up I saw lightning trace along and through the clouds toward one location. Tracing it, I saw the bolts crackle and centralize in one spot before lancing down several times in rapid succession; silhouetting a cluster of tall, darkened buildings a few blocks away. Squinting, I could almost make out a few figures rising into the air before multicolored lights lashed out.

The next kill zone.

I pressed the two buttons on my armband and raised it to my mouth, "Pick-up request: Long Range Group."

"Scuse' me ma'am. Don' spose' you could yank this thing off'a me?"

Hearing the thick, Australian accent I looked back to the other cape jabbing a thumb at the sphere. Wordlessly reaching out, I grabbed the thing and tugged it off his shoulder where a couple of stubby tentacles had latched onto his suit.

"Thankee ma'am."

"No problem," I murmured, deciding to examine the neon-blue glowing sphere until the Mover , I tossed it in my hands. _Light_. For being somewhere between a basketball and a beach ball it was much lighter than it ought to be. Gentle squeezing revealed it to be somewhat squishy while at the same time being taught. Like... a balloon, wrapped in a thin damp sponge. So it held air and was plenty buoyant to lift a person... A biological life preserver?

"Hey, uh, you're Miss Militia, right? From Brockton Bay?"

Ah, that was quick. "Yes, that's-" tossing aside the life preserver, I turned around and— I staggered back, reflexively summoning my weapon as I saw the man from earlier just a few feet from me. Only he wasn't alone. Now, he was riding astride the lizard that had been pulling people from the water on some sort of saddle complete with bridle and reins. And it's size? It wasn't a bit bigger. It was _much_ , bigger. Maybe sixteen feet long from nose to tail tip.

I traced my eyes over the thing before holstering my weapon.

From a distance, and if I'd been squinting, I _might_ have mistaken it for a mashup of a komodo dragon and a crocodile; what with its somewhat low to the ground body, thick limbs, and neck... But then I would have needed to enlarge it fourfold and give it an extra pair of legs in its middle.

Now that wasn't to say it wasn't those things, but it was more. Its legs weren't just thick and powerful looking, they were almost little tree trunks with five digits tipped with sharp looking talons—the fifth of which looked an awful lot like a thumb. The head—squished and flat, as if it had run headlong into in wall—cocked to the side and it blinked down at me, gold-orange eyes framed by red sclera focusing on me. A thick black tongue zipped out a moment over a row of teeth protruding teeth coming up from the bottom jaw.

"Ye—" I coughed as my throat burned momentarily and swallowed. Even that hurt. "Yes, that's me."

Nodding to himself, the man was quiet for a moment before nodding again. "Sorry if I snuck up on you. Names Blasto," he slapped the thick neck of his lizard-mount-thing. "And this here is Gumbo. He's friendly."

The lizard cocked its head, blinked, and warbled at me. I unconsciously blinked back as things came together.

Blasto: A middling level Tinker specializing in bio-engineering that created hybrid 'planimal' minions. Alternate aliases or self-modification suspected due to suspicious movements and having multiple faces and descriptions on record. Previously based in Brockton Bay before relocating to Boston. Competes for territory with Teeth and Accord. Wanted for 2nd-degree murder and massive property damage.

Bio-Tinker… it was probably a good guess then that the life preservers were his work then. A bit different than what he'd been pegged at, though.

"I thought so. It's been a while so I wasn't sure, though... I don't actually think we ever ran into each other before I left The Bay. I never-" He frowned before blinking and vigorously shaking his head, "Anyway, I-" He was interrupted by a beep and he snapped his head down to check his armband.

" _Legend down, JJ-5. Saurian down, JJ-5. Harlequin down, JJ-4. Rhime deceased, JJ-3. Calypso deceased, JJ-2. Old Boy down, JJ-2."_

"Motherfucker," Blasto cursed as he stared at the band and his head snapped back up to look at me, now scowling. "Ok, I'll skip straight to the point then. I need help." Reaching into one of the bulging bags he pulled out a faintly glowing blue ball the size of a tennis ball and held it up, "I've been following the fighting while throwing these out whenever people go down so they don't drown and so they're easier to spot for search and rescue."

"And why tha' bloody hell didn'tcha pass em'round when we we're all together mate?" The other man interrupted, "Oy preciate' it and all, but could have used em' erliuh' ya know."

"Because," Blasto bit out, his eyes snapping to him. "I was too busy harvesting them and getting out of my lab by the skin of my teeth before it could come down on top of me. _Mate_."

The other cape just raised his hands in surrender, "Sorry."

Huffing he looked back to me, "The problem is I've hit a bottleneck. Between throwing these things out, triage and treatment, navigation, and just moving from place to place I've started falling behind. I need someone to give me directions and distribute." He put the life preserver back in the bag. "So, you in or not."

I glanced around the area at the people, many of which had been brought up by the life preservers and were now being evacuated or brought back to the front lines. Well over a dozen of the neon-blue life preserves littered the area. How many of those people wouldn't be returning if they hadn't gotten to them?

A faint explosion echoed through the air and everyone present looked toward the source of the sound. The fighting in the distance, just barely visible through the downpour.

" _Psychlotron down, JF-4."_

Much as I wished it were otherwise, I knew I didn't have as much an effect on Leviathan as the other Blasters of the long range group. I simply didn't have the firepower to make enough of an impact- while remaining restricted to conventional weapons at least.

Going with Blasto meant I would be removed from the front lines, but saving a few defenders that otherwise wouldn't have returned to the fight would be worth it. Even if they could only delay Leviathan for a second longer or hurt him just a little more.

I looked back to Blasto and met his eyes. "I'm in."

"Thank you." Digging his heel into the lizard's side he sidled up until he was next to me and shrugged off one of his bags before holding it out to me. Grabbing it, I slung it over my shoulder and grabbed his hand to pull myself up; using the lizard's— Gumbo's—middle leg as a step up and swung my leg over to sit in the saddle. It… squished, as I sat down, and more cold water soaked into the bottom of my pants.

Absently shifting the satchel a little I leaned out, taking a closer look at the saddle and seeing quilted blue fabric with yellow straps and big metal buckles to hold it in place... Quilted packing blankets and ratchet straps if I wasn't mistaken. Good improvised padding, but completely waterlogged.

Disregarding it I brought my wrist up and pressed the two buttons just as a figure descended from the sky at the edge of my vision. "Shifting from Long Range Group to Search and Rescue operations with Blasto."

A pause, and then the screen on the band refreshed the map of the area, now showing a number of white dots that represented the downed capes. " _Acknowledged_."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Looking over I saw a black woman, clad in contrasting white bodysuit and yellow cape with a small yellow domino mask glaring up at me. Wayfarer, a several-year veteran of Endbringer fights. She came to almost every single one and always worked with the support group.

Her lower face pinched up in disdain and she pointed out to the fighting in the distance, "There are other people who need help! People who are actually injured or need to get picked up and-"

"Relax ma'am," the Australian interjected, causing her attention to snap to him. "Ah was planning to ring for a lift anyhow." Standing with a groan the blond man spoke slowly into the armband, enunciating each word clearly. "Returning to long range group." glancing at me he nodded, "Good luck ma'am."

Looking back to the woman he held his arms out to the side as she picked him up and took off toward the fighting.

In Front of me, Blasto scooched forward a bit before suddenly twisting and looking over his shoulder at me, the bulky hard case nearly hit me in the face. "Are you sitting on the yellow strap?"

I glanced down at the strap between my legs. "Yes?"

"Good." He muttered and shifted back around, the sound of something quickly zipping and unzipping coming back to me over the rain. "Now, uh, we're going to be moving pretty fast so you'll want to stay on it because that's your stirrup. Once Gumbo gets up to speed you won't stay on long without it, so just hook your feet under the strap and you should be good… uh, and so long as you hold on."

Pulling the reins Gumbo stood.

"Hold onto _what_ , exactly?" I interrupted

Blasto glanced back, grimacing before turning back around. "Just…" He fiddled around up front for a moment before cursing, "Just hold onto the case."

My armband beeped. " _Harlequin down, IK-4. Dysfunction deceased, IK-4. Wildbow down, IK-4. Corvin deceased, IK-4. Flashdown down, IK-4."_

"Shit, you better hold on tight."

Cracking the reigns Gumbo lurched forward.


	2. 112

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.1.2

—

When Blasto said to hold on, I had been expecting a bumpy ride. An uncomfortable trek racing over the rooftops and down the flooded streets. Surprisingly, though, it was anything but. Well, bumpy that is. Maybe it was the extra pair of legs but while I could feel Gumbo moving, it was like we were riding a cloud compared to most other things.

But that was Tinker tech… even if it was in the form of a giant lizard.

One thing that was somewhat uncomfortable though was just how _vertical_ the riding was.

I held tight to Blasto's case as Gumbo leapt a 'short'—if ten feet or so is 'short'—gap between stores and raced across the roof of a car wash. The six-legged lizard accelerated as it raced to the edge of the building and leapt put into the air. My stomach jumped into my throat as we fell through the air, only stopping as the lizard landed on a cargo van. But not slowing, it jumped again and trundled up the cab of a semi-truck left abandoned in the middle of the street.

 _"Hard Knock down, IK-5. Taurus down, IK-5. Adamantine down, IK-5. Indomitable deceased, IK-5. Torrential deceased, JL-4. Crux down, IK-5. Masquery down, IK-5."_

Hopping to the trailer, the lizard raced along its length before jumping at a two-story building. Again, my stomach dropped as we started falling then held on for dear life as the lizard hit the side of the building and I was facing the sky as it pulled itself up.

I ignored the uneasiness though and checked my armband as we reached the top of what turned out to be a long building. The roof was flooded with a few inches of water, but that did little to deter the lizard as it started racing toward the far side. Once more Gumbo started picking up speed as it accelerated and my stomach started complaining.

The armbands screen scrolled, tracking us while the map updated and directed us to the closest downed capes via a red line superimposed on the screen.

"Another five hundred feet! Straight ahead!" I shouted into Blastos' ear, the wind from our speed and the rain whipping against us necessitating it. We'd have never been able to communicate otherwise in any other way than pointing.

Up ahead, tall multistory buildings loomed dark and high overhead in the stormy night.

I had been mistaken when I saw the fighting earlier. What I had thought was a killzone wasn't one at all as Blasto had managed to inform me. Because from what he told me, there was no way in _hell_ East Cambridge would have been picked as a killzone. It was almost the opposite of a planned out and carefully chosen location where Leviathan could be locked down with minimal collateral damage or casualties.

No, instead, going by a warning from Dragon that had come over the armbands, it had seemed Flechette—or rather, the _Butcher_ —had retreated into the cluster of Apartment buildings, Hospitals, and student housing complexes after engaging Leviathan in close range. He was still doggedly pursuing her, but the problem was that she was lingering in the area. She kept teleporting from rooftop to rooftop, using the tall buildings to maintain the high ground and snipe down on the Endbringer.

Already, one of the buildings had fallen and taken a number of grounded capes with it. Blasto and I had seen it while riding, The dark shape of an apartment complex crumbling from the skyline. Dragon hadn't even bothered declaring who was just wounded or who had been killed- and with the weather as it was, who knew how many people were still in there that hadn't been able to go to one of the Endbringer shelters.

Possibly the only mercy was that Leviathan wasn't able to pull from the Charles river just a few blocks away thanks to the thing being frozen solid past the dam. Not that it seemed to be hampering the Endbringer much, with the storm having been predicted to drop several inches of rainfall it hardly needed it.

Nearing the edge of the roof Gumbo leapt, sending my stomach into my throat again as we plummeted toward the ground, a parking lot. A surge of water washed over us as it landed before plowing ahead on its powerful legs. Kicking up waves of water as it moved past the sedans and trucks.

I felt at my side, patting the bag Blasto given me before reaching under the flap for the life preservers. "What am I supposed to do with these things when we get there?"

"If the place is flooded out, just throw em out and they'll do the rest," he shouted back. "They, uh… They're like heat seeking missiles! Swim for the warm body, grab onto something, inflate."

"Will two go to the same person?" I queried.

"No, just throw out a bunch while we prep critically wounded for the Movers!"

Nodding, I grabbed a handful of the balls and checked the armband again. Almost no change, only a few of the dots on the map had moved a little. I pointed at the corner of a red apartment building whose lower level windows had been shattered at some point. "Sixty feet! Around the corner of the building there!"

Rounding the corner to a small, enclosed area that might have been a break or lunch area we found the place devastated. Shattered trees, bits of furniture, and detritus littered the water, obscuring any of the people we were here to help. Unhooking my feet from the strap I threw out six life preservers and slid off the saddle as Blasto unzipped something.

Wading through the water I pushed aside debris and branches, searching for any of the capes until a blue glow grew in the water a few feet ahead behind a leafy tree branch.

Reaching out I pushed it aside to find one of the capes, a man in a red bodysuit with a curved helmet and the circle and half circle of a Taurus on his chest. The branch was sticking out the side of his ribcage.

He twitched slightly in the murky water even as it turned red around him and I could hear a faint gasping from behind his mask.

"Shit, move!"

Moving aside as Blasto waded up to the cape I hurriedly pressed the call buttons on the armband. "Immediate teleporter support required!"

A moment passed before a sharp _crack_ , echoed overhead. Looking up I saw a figure shrouded in a billowing cowl. Swooping down, they touched a long pale finger to Taurus's chest before disappearing again, this time with a quiet _pop_.

Looking around I found another cape via the glow of the life preservers. Floating in the water, he may have had a mask once but it was gone now along with half of some contraption held into a web of mangled straps on his chest. He rolled slightly on the water, eyelids fluttering as he mumbled incoherently.

Pulling him a little closer I checked him over as well as I could. Nothing seemed wrong, but that didn't mean anything wasn't. My weapon jumped into my hand, taking the form of a long penlight that had a glass breaker protruding out the back.

Spreading an eyelid, I shone the light into the dilated eye and watched as the eye twitched as raindrops fell near it but also watched as the pupil failed to constrict. A good sign of a concussion then. Hopefully.

"I'll take him."

Looking up I saw a flyer with a half mask hovering there, green armored arms out reaching for the cape.

"I think he has a concussion," I warned.

Pausing, the man shifted and descending into the water picked the man up a different way to take that into account-

"Stop!"

Snapping around I watched as Blasto waded up, pushing a woman through the water whose costume, a black dress, had been cut open along the front. Masquery. She might have been pretty, once, but now her face was now a mask of oozing lacerations barely held together by a few staples to each gash cut with one long line of staples ran down the side of her neck and into her chest. A weak pulse of blood oozed out of her neck.

He pointed at the Tinker. "Concussion you said?"

I nodded.

"He can wait then," he said and practically pushed the woman toward the flyer. He hesitated a moment, the exposed skin around his mouth taking on a palor. "Go!"

He went, letting go of the Tinker to grab Masquery and flew off. For a moment I hesitated next to him before moving on, looking for someone else before seeing the blue light of a life preserver reflecting off shards of glass left in the window frames.

It was a cold calculus, performing triage, and a large part of why I preferred being among the long range team even if I wasn't effective. Bypassing one cape in favor of another, whether they had a valuable power or weren't as injured never got easier for me. Not when I could remember them in perfect clarity when I heard their name be announced over the armband a final time.

Glancing back as I pushed aside a tree branch I saw a flyer come in and pick up the Tinker.

 _"Taurus deceased, PJ-5."_

Reaching the light of the life preserver, I found this place had wide concrete steps leading up to a platform with a pair of double doors that led inside. Like the rest of this area, it might have been a nice place for students to relax from classes and tests. Now it was little more than a dry spot for the two small figures there. One laid out on the steps while the other knelt beside them, an overly large hoody soaked through and clinging to their small frame.

"Come on Indy, yer- yer gonna be fine, j-just fine… see?"

A girl's voice. Young, _too young_...

"It's going to be all right, we'll get you to the healers and you'll they-they'll patch you right up." A choking laugh echoed back to me as I waded closer. "Maybe Panacea will fix your nose for you while she's at it, yeah? You keep complaining about it being too big and you know all the stuff on PHO about how she does that kinda' stuff."

She sniffed. "You'll be right as rain as soon as we get you to her Indy. A'OK. See? Yer stronger than this- See!"

Climbing out of the water I stepped up alongside the girl to see her frantically trying to stuff another girl's small intestine back into her abdominal cavity… but every time she did another length of the pink, ropey organ spilled out.

The girls' hands turned red each time she tried to push it back in before the rain washed the blood away. I glanced at Indy's, Indomitable's, face, and saw her without the sunglasses she'd worn to the meeting. Her eyes were vacant and unmoving as a drop hit her in the eye.

I put a hand on the girl's shoulder. Gentle but firm, squeezing just hard enough to keep her from pushing another length of intestine back in.

"It'll be ok." It was a lie.

The girl froze, intestine still in her hand as she choked and seemed to shrink a little.

"I know it's hard, but it'll get easier." Another lie.

Dropping the intestine the girl wrapped her arms around herself fast enough she broke my grip. Hugging herself she rocked back and forth, choking and hiccuping. After a few seconds, she stilled and lowered her arms to stare at Indomitable. I heard a low keening wail from her an instant before it evolved into a full on scream and the girl shot into the air… leaving me looking down at a corpse.

No, it never had become easier. The only thing you could do was get used to the pain and live for the lost.

 _"Adamantine deceased, IK-6."_

—


	3. 113

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.1.3

—

Grabbing one of the yellow straps holding Blastos improvised packing blanket saddle to Gumbo's back, I pulled myself up. Using one of the lizard middle legs as a step up I swung my leg over and settled in behind Blasto as he packed away his instruments… well, 'instruments', might have been a bit too kind for his staple gun.

"You got the next location," he asked, calling back over his shoulder.

Briefly raising the armband and pressing the left button to ping the system got me an update. A red line ran across the map on the screen, passing through several grid markers before highlighting a length of street littered with white dots with… _two_ red dots a little further down the street?

I stared at them, my lips slowly tightening into a frown. The white represented the downed capes but the two red ones... One, I knew, represented Leviathan. But the other, it couldn't be another Endringer, something like that would have been announced… The Butcher— _Flechette_... whoever she was now.

Maybe. It would make some sense to mark her even if she wasn't an enemy- at least not for now. After she went through East Cambridge she must have been marked just in case.

What could have been going on in that girl's head for her to do that… I didn't really want to think about what she must be going through, but if things like that were an indication she might end up a Casualty no matter what.

What could have been going on in that girl's head for her to do that… actually, I did know, from the last time a hero had become the butcher. I didn't really want to think about what she must be going through, but if things like that were an indication she might ultimately end up a casualty no matter what.

She may still be walking around but- I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and looked back down at the armband again.

"We're close by, head to Broadway."

"Direction?" He snapped the reins and Gumbo shifted beneath us.

"North. Take a right towards the intersection with-"

" _Noooo_ ," Blasto moaned, a hint of panic in his tone and looking up from the armband I watched as he leaned forward in the saddle. Reaching out he felt along Gumbo's upper neck, along a patch of soft scales where the back of its lower jaw met the rest of the neck.

He pressed in, holding his hand there for a three count before leaning back to frantically dig through his coat.

"What's wrong?"

"His body is shutting down," the Tinker answered distractedly and I had to lean back, his motions making his hard case swing about as an ember of frustration spawned. "Trying to go to sleep, he's not normally supposed to be this active so soon after coming out of hibernation. Too much energy loss too quickly for him to metabolize his reserves."

The ember ignited into a fire as I glared at the back of his head. "And you brought something like him to an Endbringer fight," I snapped. "Are you _stupid_?"

Completely unbelievable, I knew _full_ well how reckless and over confident Tinkers could be with their creations... But actually coming out here? _Knowing_ full well that it might not be up to the task?

That kind of shit not only endangered themselves but others as well.

"Because everything _else_ I had that might have worked better got crushed under a hundred tons of brick and concrete thanks to the wave that fuck sent up the Charles when it showed up," he retorted as he pulled a small black gun with a silver canister handle from his coat. He sighed. "And because I'm a stubborn vindictive idiot and wanted my pound of flesh," he muttered, leaning forward.

Pressing the gun up into the soft spot along the lizard's neck, I got a good look and finally recognized it. A Pneumatic Jet Injector Gun.

The British Embassy personnel had used a few to inoculate everyone left from the village.

Depressing the trigger I heard a faint hiss reach me over the rain and Blasto swiftly put the injector back into his coat.

It took a moment, but after a flexing ripple ran through the lizard's back the effects were almost instantaneous. Quickly standing to its full height it shook itself out and flexed as it arched its head back and let out a long, warbling call.

So, he knew there would be an issue but had anticipated them and come anyway...

"Not entirely an idiot, though," he snarked as he pulled the reins and guided Gumbo back between the buildings. "Broadway, you said?"

I stared at the back of his head before sighing. Tinkers. "That's right, Broadway. Take a right once we get there. We will be in close proximity to Leviathan, so stay alert."

Where others might have hesitated at hearing that, he just chuckled darkly and snapped the reins; urging Gumbo forward. "Got it."

Plowing through the water wasn't an issue for the lizard, it was strong and where the water was too deep it could swim. However, it wasn't long before it started taking slightly quicker—if more haphazard—routes: Elevated planters that were higher up in the water and could let him move faster, mounds of rubble and debris that had accumulated or even debris from partially collapsed sections of apartment building.

I tried not to think about some of the remains I saw among the rubble or floating in the water.

Annoying, and it made for awkward—if smooth—riding, but it allowed us to make good time and reaching the street I could see just _why_ the entire area had been highlighted.

The four-laned street—from here all the way down the street to the teardrop body of the Endbringer faught—had been ravaged. It was flooded, but that did little to disguise the damage that had been wrought on and around it.

Buildings that might once have been offices, businesses, hotels or apartments loomed along the length of the road. Their glass faces and lower halves shattered and caved in to expose their skeletal internal framing.

It was a reflection of the devastation done to the street itself. Entire swaths of pavement of had been sundered and uplifted—like little icebergs rising from the water—by pipes that had been ripped from the ground. The effect was that it turned the street into a nightmarish landscape for anyone on foot and if not for the flyers descending in various places it would have been almost impossible to get to anyone on foot.I squinted, looking through the rain to a point further down the street where a dark shadow in the rain lunged, ducked, and swiped faster than people could get out of the way.

" _Trident down, IK-4."_

Moving too and fro across the width of the street as it attacked with water, claw, and tail while being attacked in turn.

" _Strapping Lad, down. Laserdream deceased. IK-4. Shielder deceased, IK-4"_

Leviathan. Hearing the last two names and being this close made my weapon shake in its holster and if I had had a hand available it would have been in it.

" _Brick deceased, IK-4. Paradox deceased, IK-4."_

Pulling the reins to the right, Blasto directed Gumbo toward the closest outcropping when our armbands beeped.

" _Shelter Breached, IK-4."_

A quick check to my armband and I saw the map update, the dots representing the survivors disappearing as the directions shifted; the red line leading to another location further down the street and right next to the red dots.

"The parking garage!" Blasto blurted, making me look up to see him pointing to a barely visible multi-level parking garage at the end of the street as the assault on Leviathan intensified into a veritable storm of multicolored lasers while a dark shape slammed into him and started pushing him back and toward the intersection. Trying to get him away from the shelter.

Then dozens of white streaks blasted overhead. Missiles, I realized, just moments before a much _much_ larger and distinctly Draconic form screamed overhead on jet engines burning white. Dragon, in one of her battlesuits, and she was flying so low the water shook around us and windows that hadn't been broken shattered and rained down into the street. It would have been deafening if I didn't have my adaptive earplugs that had kept me from going deaf by my own power.

As fortunate as I was, however, Blasto was less so. Hands to his ears from the noise and likely ringing, I had to shake his shoulder to get us moving as Dragon shot into the sky at the end of the street and her suit transformed. The jet engines, missile pods, and whatever else she didn't need or deemed extraneous was shed as she fell into the fray- now in a more humanoid configuration and wielding a wide bladed sword thrumming with the gray haze I recognized as nanothorns.

Feeling at my bag of life preservers, I looked back to the ruined street and started searching as Blasto urged Gumbo forward.

There were flyers pulling them from the water, but that didn't mean I couldn't help.

The next minute or so could have been compared to some of the old platformer games Melissa had liked to play as Blasto took us through, around, and over the rubble while I threw out the life preservers; my head on a swivel as I constantly scanned the water and consulted my memory of the armband for survivors. The wind and rain blew in my eyes and made it difficult to look too closely, but I did as well as I could.

Many had pulled themselves out of the water onto the high ground, but many more were in the water and not all wore capes. Most, in fact, looked to be civilians. Bedraggled, battered, and soaked to the bone like the rest of us as they shivered in the rain waiting for rescue or tried to escape the area.

There were also a number of already inflated life preservers floating around, but not enough for how many people there were and as we jumped from high point to high point or waded through water I kept throwing them out. It got to the point that by the time forcefields had gone up around Leviathan and we reached the bunker-like entrance to the shelter, the bag was noticeably lighter

A cape in a hulking red suit of power armor emerged from the stairs, a short gun cradled with a glowing hot muzzle spitting steam cradled in their hands. Seeing Blasto and I he waded over, pushing his way through the water with ease.

"You are ones with blue things, da?" He rumbled, a heavily accented and synthesized male voice booming over the rain.

Damnit. My bag was near empty, but Blasto should still have plenty.

"Yeah."

"Good, come!"

Blasto and I made to get off but instead of waiting he just put the gun at his back, picked both of us up in an arm, and ferried us down into the flooded entrance on his shoulders where I saw what was wrong.

Almost every Endbringer shelter was built the same, there were variations based on terrain and such, but ultimately they all had same basic design and that included the entrance. A single flight of stairs wide enough that three people could easily fit shoulder to shoulder that led down to a vault door just as wide.

The one here was flooded up to the top of the door. There were supposed to be systems in place to keep that from happening- channels for the water to escape into the storm drains or pumps. Not entirely unexpected considering they weren't rated to keep up with the volume of water Leviathan threw around.

That wasn't much of concern, though, the giant doors to the shelters were plenty water tight to handle any amount of water. The problem was that this one was buckled and in the upper left corner, there were long indents in the metal where it had been punctured and pulled back a little like wet clay.

And the water was still at the top of the door. The shelter had already flooded and I could hear faint sounds of panic from inside; screaming, yelling, shouts for help.

My weapon jumped into my hands and separated, an adhesive coated brick of C4 in one hand and a detonator in the other.

The door was strong, very strong, but there were explosive bolts worked into the design of the frame in the event the door somehow became inoperational. And if the detonation mechanism wasn't working properly, they could be triggered with a shaped charge.

Guesstimating the distances, I made to throw the brick but the Tinker raised a hand.

"Niet! No explosive! I do rabota to cut open door, but shelter is safest place at moment. At least until Endbringer gone. It stay too long, move _too much_! Nowhere safer." The Tinker pointed and traced a line two feet above the door. "Ceiling of shelter design to make air pocket. It work, but people are crowded, tired, cold, cannot tread water long. Drown."

"I get it. You called so we could bring the Nekton for them to stay afloat." Blasto said and flipped open his bag.

"Neck-ton? Floating blue thing, da."

Sifting through his bag Blasto started touched his fingers to his palm one after another, muttering to himself and looking back and forth at the door. Calculations of some sort, from what little I could hear. "Are there any in there already?"

"Some," the Tinker answered, "Had few left. Very useful with rescue operatsii."

"Good, but that means they're already running out… Shit, I thought they'd last longer." Blasto glanced back at me, at my nearly empty bag. "Ok… Ok. Militia? You're through most of your bag, right? How many you got left?"

A quick check inside told me how many I still had. "Twenty-three."

"Ok, you toss the rest of your's in. Then with most of mine…" He trailed off, mumbling to himself again. I wasn't paying attention to him, though. The Tinker was already moving his suit's arm toward the breach in the door. I walked along it until I could crouch in his palm, tossing the life preservers in by the handful before Blasto was brought close on the other hand and we swapped places.

He wasn't a bit slower with his life preservers—or Nekton, as he called them, though just calling them life preservers was easier. He threw in handfuls at a time, but sometimes dropped one or picked up another to give himself an even number each time until he was almost half empty and turned to face the other Tinker as he flipped the bags flap closed.

"That's as good as I can do. Each Nekton can provide around three hundred pounds of buoyancy, but that's the limit and only for upwards an hour. After that, they'll start failing."

"Is good enough. Spasibo."

"Schastliv byt sdelat' nekotoryye khoroshiye."

Apparently, whatever he'd said seemed to surprise the other Tinker. Pausing, he was quiet for a long moment before leaning back and laughing; great rumbling sound that reverberated through his armor and the water around us. Quieting after a bit, he turned from the shelter door and as he ferried us to Gumbo he and Blasto bantered back and forth.

Whether it was from simple camaraderie or something else, Blasto had become rather animated as he and I stepped off the other Tinkers armor and settled into place on Gumbo's saddle.

Nodding to the other Tinker, the suited Tinker nodded back. "Udachi."

Blasto pulled the reigns and I pressed the buttons on my armband when the armored Tinker, the shelter entrance, the water around us, and all the parking garage were lit up in the bright flash of light. " _BooOOMM_!"

" _Savage deceased, IK-6. Karnival deceased, IK-6. Legend down, IK-6. Ray Beam, deceased."_

Ears ringing, I snapped my head around to the intersection. The forcefield that stood between Leviathan and the shelter flickered once as the explosion rose higher and higher— then it vanished.

" _Barricade down. IK-5"_

For all of a second, time seemed to still as I thought I saw Leviathans silhouette in the column of the dying explosion and expanding cloud of steam. But then it was gone, the shadow disappeared and without the force field in place, the steam billowed out into the street.

"Go! Pomogi im!"

Pulling Gumbo around, Blasto directed the lizard to the end of the street and it took off. Wading and running and leaping, weaving its way through the ravaged street as we entered the dissipating steam cloud. Hot and humid, it clashed with my wet clothes and skin the moment we reached it with only the rain countering it as it poured down and dispersed the steam.

Raising my armband, I pinged the system and got Barricade's location. "Twenty feet ahead, eleven o'clock!" I pointed past Blasto, my hand marking the direction just in case he didn't know.

He course corrected and a few seconds later I saw a woman's body, limp, floating facedown in the water, shrouded in the last bits of steam in the air. Blasto yanked on the reins and I leapt off, the water coming up to my knees while my boots sank into mud. The water was at my shins when I reached Barricade and flipped her onto her back... I didn't even stop to process what it may have looked like.

Blasto splashed up next to me. "Oh god." He was calling for immediate medical evacuation as I tried to figure out what to do. Her face and the front of her costume had- it had fused. Her skin and whatever synthetic material her costume had been made from had melted together.

" _Leviathan lost. Perimeter, report."_

What may have been a simple black length of fabric with holes for her to see through had partially melted and run into her eyes.

He mouth was little more than a fleshy slit. How was she even still alive?

The water reached my ankles and I hurriedly put my hands between her back and the mud. As the water level continued to drop, though, my hands sank in and her back squished under my finders.

A teleporter in a grey bodysuit appeared just a few feet away. He took one look at Barricade and gagged, hunched over, and threatened to throw up. But even as he gagged he reached out a hand to touch Barricade and teleported away.

I was left looking at a layer of pink, oozing flesh that covered my gloves and fingers for several long seconds before I had the sense to wipe my it off.

I scrubbed my hands, rubbing them through the silt and mud and dirt until they were clean. Raw and stinging, but clean… or at least it felt like it. My gloves squished as I examined them… It reminded me of how Barricade's back had felt.

Ripping them off, I shoved them into the empty life preserver bag and scrubbed my hands again before pinging my armband for orders.

" _Leviathan has entered subway network. Location Unknown."_

I waited and waited, but none came.

Standing, I looked around for Blasto and found him with Gumbo a short ways into the intersection, a slowly widening hole a few yards further in.

Slogging through the mud and silt and debris, I stepped up next to him as a flyer shot into the hole and out of sight. I starred with him as a section of mud and asphalt broke away from the edge and fell in with a splash.

"You wanna' know something about Boston?" Blasto suddenly asked, his tone as wary as I was feeling tired.

I didn't say anything but he continued anyway.

"Because of how old the city is, it's lousy with tunnels that have been dug over the years: Underground railroad from the slave days, Prohibition Era gangsters from the twenties and thirties, Military from the Cold War, Subway lines that were shut down, escape routes used by supervillains…" He let out a sardonic laugh. "Depending on the tunnel and if you know the way, you can probably get to any part of the city while staying underground."

The Tinker was quiet for a few moments more before slowly shaking his head and turning away.


	4. 114

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout 4)

1.1.4

—

Coolness washed over me, like opening a freezer and reaching in. Only that was my whole body.

From my periphery, I saw the Lizard-themed cape of the Ambassadors move a little closer and the cold grew stronger, concentrating in places, as I pinched closed a long laceration on a cape's stomach for Blasto to staple shut.

He was moving along the wounded, his Shaker power—uncomfortable as it was—healing the injured cape's enough so they wouldn't die outright or could return to the fight. I hadn't really been conscious of just how battered my experience in the water had left me until the minor aches and pains and started lessening each second I was in his range before disappearing altogether.

Oh, I still hurt, and if anything the absence of the little aches magnified the other parts that hurt, but as Blasto and I moved further away I felt better overall than I had. Less of an all-encompassing soreness and more individual twinges of pain if I moved this way or that, deep tissue bruising and the like.

Those kinds of pains, though... they were still _nothing_ compared to what the other capes I was helping treat had suffered. Leviathan had changed his tactics, retreating below ground when it could even if for short distances while keeping up its pursuit of Flechette. As a result, the fight was beginning to drag on. Constant relocations and periods of intense fighting had left the defenders fraying at both ends. Few were still going strong while many were beginning to flag. Blasto and I had had several capes come back multiple times before going back out.

But, they stayed and fought so I soldiered on as well.

However, for as exhausted as everyone was, there was still hope. Leviathan, despite still being here, was the most injured he had ever been before. No matter how small it was, there was still a hope he could be killed and that kept the capes heading back out... even if the only thing holding them together was a few staples and a little regeneration.

But as the fight had dragged on, tactics had had to be changed. The support team couldn't get all the injured to a safe and secure location anymore, and with Leviathan able to disappear and pop-up at will nowhere was necessarily safe.

So Search and Rescue had adapted. Capes were grouped into squads and scattered around the edges of where Leviathan was or would likely be. Then, when the fighting started back up the movers would go in and pull out the injured. Anyone stable enough to fight would get sent back to their respective squads, and the fight would continue.

Counterproductive in some ways, and inefficient in others, but it kept Leviathan from being able to go after a single group and take an unacceptable number of capes out of the fight in one blow.

It worked and, once Blasto and I finished up on the last of our squad's injured, it was how we found ourselves heading to what—according to the Tinker—had been M.I.T's Plasma and Fusion lab before being inadvertently wrecked a few months back by a group of nomadic Supervillains. Or, as he put it, 'wrecked by a bunch of dumbfucks.'

Apparently, not even the Teeth messed around in Cambridge too much and the rumor was that the capes in question had barely gotten out of Boston intact when they'd been found. The local Supervillains were rather protective of their city's world class university… who knew.

But, as it turned out, it having been decommissioned made it perfect for Blasto and I to be directed there for our break rotation. A relatively low two-story building that Gumbo could get up and down from without teleporter aid, it had a flat roof for wounded and triage, it was decommissioned and, most importantly, it was going to be right down the street from where Leviathan was being led into a kill zone.

Blasto groaned as he leaned forward to lay on Gumbo's neck as the lizard lowered itself down on its belly and spread out. I almost snorted as Blasto pretty much did the same. What I'd seen of his physique indicated that he really wasn't up to what we'd been doing.

"Are you getting too tired to keep going?"

Exhaling, he tilted his head so he could look out to where Leviathan would be coming and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Not yet. Unless I start dosing with some of Gumbo's boosters, though? Yeah, I'm getting there."

"Hopefully it won't be much longer."

"Yeah... hopefully," he muttered. "But the city is still gonna go tits up even if it doesn't get washed out or sank or whatever. The damage has been done. Cambridge alone— shit, it been pretty much fucked and the flooding from the wave that fuck rode in on did its share damage to the rest of the city. My labs gone, the port and rail yard is wrecked, the city's trashed, economy's gonna go to shit." His eyes drifted shut and he went a little limp.

"Probably gonna need to set up somewhere new after this… Fucking hate moving," he muttered.

Looking away, I stared out across the city, with the rain having let up I could see a good ways and eyed the flashing of blasters firing on leviathan a block or so away.

"You could always join up with the Protectorate," I mused, throwing the option out there. "You wouldn't have to move then and a new lab would be supplied to you. Maybe you'd be able to make a difference and help the city recover." I glanced over to the tinker and saw him looking up at me again from the corner of his eye.

"Seriously? You're making a pitch now of all times?"

I shrugged and drawing my weapon from its sheath it became a long rifle with a massive scope. Propping my leg up, I rested the rifle on my knee, pressed the stock to my shoulder, and looked through the scope to get a better look at what was going on.

Blasto snorted. "I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. Being on the other side of the fence has given me a pretty good perspective of the Protectorate and it isn't pretty. Trying to work with two hands tied behind your back doesn't even describe it. Besides, I've worked for you guys before. No thanks.

I blinked as he said that and processed what he said as Alexandria shot down below the skyline. Yes, the Protectorate was handicapped by public relations and the use of force and as a Tinker, with his specialty, he would have definitely been restricted with what he could create, but… "You've done work for the Protectorate? What kind?"

"The classified kind. Sorry, don't feel like getting ganked."

"The Protectorate doesn't kill people like that."

"Right. You tell yourself that."

Grimacing, I looked back through the scope and watched as Leviathan neared an intersection that led to the building they were on. Reaching for the scope I turned one of the dials on the scope and increased the magnification by ten times.

I watched as Butcher—or could she still be Flechette?—appeared, a calm expression on her face as she sighted down her bow before her eyes widened and she teleported away. Before flames from her explosive teleportation even faded away, the spot she'd been standing was turned into a crater as Alexandria smashed into the ground.

She pushed herself up and looked over her shoulder.

I watched as her jaw clenched and a wave of water rushed into the intersection and I saw Leviathan up close for the first time in a little while. It… it had been ravaged, more so than I'd ever seen it. The damage it had suffered were in no way superficial or cosmetic.

It still had all its limbs, but they were thin—like it was emaciated—and what was left of the Endbringer had a rough texture to it like it had been hewn from stone. It was like the capes assembled had literally been chipping away at it, piece by piece.

Then it took a hard leftright and I was looking into the glowing green slits of its remaining pair of eyes as a wall of water rose behind it up and tore down the street it had previously been chasing Flechette down. It accelerated on its new course, unhindered and unimpeded as the movers rushed to catch up and my armband announced Leviathan's new course.

" _Blasto_! We need to move, _now_!"

 _"Suplex down, KL-9. Chubster deceased, KL-9. Narwhal down, KL-9. Harlequin deceased, KL-9."_

Gumbo shifted beneath me and I dropped my knee to hook my foot in the strap but kept watch as the Endbringer grew larger and larger in my scope. Its head shifted— It was looking at me and— My finger slid off the guard, curled around the trigger. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and squeezed.

Blasto screamed something incoherent and his case bumped my shoulder. "—do _not_ fucking do this right now!"

A muted report and one of the Endbringers eyes burst green ichor and went dark. The damage didn't even make it flinch though and even as a few of the Blasters caught up and fired down on it from above it continued on unhindered. It just kept accelerating. One moment it was half way down the street with a few blasters overhead, the next it was so close the rifle was more than useless.

The Pneumatic Injector hissed and a moment later Gumbo's back rippled beneath me. I dropped the rifle as the lizard flexed and stretched— the building _swayed_ and the lizard fell onto his stomach as a wave of water and debris splashed over the edge of the roof.

Fragments of a bench, a parking meter, mud, a motorcycle that tumbled within feet of us… a body: a cape, their features scraped clean, a diamond-patterned costume, torn and barely recognizable, their limbs shattered.

Gumbo rose once more as Leviathan pressed up against the building and my weapon jumped into my hands. It trembled, shook, and parts of it shifting into insubstantial green and black static as I shouldered the boxy M202 and fired a salvo of rockets into the Endbringers ravaged face.

Reforming it to reload, I re-aimed when a black blur smashed into Leviathan from above and sent it crashing down hard enough the building shook again. It didn't _stay_ down.

Even as the Blasters and Movers caught up Leviathan had already risen.

They bore down on the Endbringer like one of his waves, lashing out with laser and fire and ice. It wasn't an insignificant amount of power, and yet compared to what had been assembled at the kill zone, it was just a fraction of what had been available. Those above were just those that had been able to catch up under their own power.

They were effective, but not enough and it showed in how Leviathan reacted to them. It didn't flee or run, it ducked and spun. Its tail, still somehow intact, flicked out and cut a glowing blaster in twain— _"Solaris deceased, IK-10_ —as thousands of gallons of water rushed up behind it to form a barrier between them and it.

It wasn't 100% effective, some blasters attacks struck home on the Endbringer's rough hide, but most simply created so much water vapor. They simply weren't powerful enough to punch through the barrier.

Only Legend, who could bend his lasers around the barrier was able to inflict full damage in the few seconds before Leviathan came back up. Though to no tangible effect.

pointless or not, when the water cleared my line of sight, I fired my missiles.

Miraculously, one missile actually hit and seared a bit of the Endbringer's ravaged hide. The second and third were absorbed by the water as it surged again. And the fourth… my heart stuttered and I jerked my finger off the newly reformed trigger as the fourth rocket was swatted away.

Leviathan turned his attention to the blasters in the sky and, for all of a moment, I could see her clearly as she dangled from the Endbringer's claws, limp and lifeless.

 _Alexandria_.

A burst of green light above the battle almost distracted me from aiming my next salvo. Almost. What _did_ throw off my aim, however, was the static crackling _snap_ and the sudden splash behind me.

"Hey!"

I jerked and pulled the trigger, but the aim was off. One missile of the four hit the back of the endbringer, the other three... flew past it and a number of flyers had to scatter.

I snapped around to see a cape standing on the roof a bit away from us, his costume that of a black and white striped bandit with a domino mask. I didn't know who he was, but he was part of the Support group. A teleporter. He started running toward us.

 _"Eidolon down, LJ-10."_

Now only a few yards away, I could see his eyes go wide and he disappeared into static a moment before Alexandria smashed into, _and through_ , the roof. Leaving a gaping hole that the water on the roof started rapidly draining into.

 _"Alexandria deceased/dead, LJ-10."_

Blasto snapped the reins and something bright, like lightning, flashed behind the curtain of water.

For a moment I stared at the hole, my breath catching in my chest as I half expected Alexandria to shoot back out and rejoin the fight. She didn't.

My teeth ground together as I whipped back around and my weapon shifted. I focused on Leviathan as Legend shot into the sky, carrying Eidolon in his arms as Leviathan shot whips of water after them. The almost too heavy weight of the launcher settled onto my shoulder as it formed into something I _really_ couldn't handle on my own. Something I was being really _stupid_ in considering even using and—

The sky tilted and Gumbo Honked.

"Hold on to something!"

I dropped the TOW and got a death grip on Blasto's case as Gumbo got moving and in the process saw just what had happened. Previous damage, the water, Leviathan hitting it, Alexandria putting a hole in the roof— _Whatever the reason_ , something had had to give and the roof was that something.

I looked to the hole Alexandria had left as the roof buckled beneath us and a section of roof collapsed into the building interior. Gumbo scrambled, his legs tearing through the gravel covering the tar paper roof lining as it struggled to find purchase.

He tried, but for the first time that night the lizard just wasn't fast enough. A slight incline became a steep slope, the steep slope became a cliff face and Gumbo finally lost its grip when gravel spilled over us and sheets of tar paper peeled away under his claws until we were practically vertical.

Then we fell and I held on as tight as I could with my hands _and_ my legs. It was just enough to stay on during the fall. He had to twist and contort like a cat, but Gumbo managed to right himself as we fell into a darkened, cavernous room gradually flooding with water and the lizard landed on his fore feet.

Of course, it wasn't a _soft_ landing by any means. Carried momentum… it wasn't something my power let me ignore. With our sudden stop, my head snapped forward and slammed against Blasto's hard case.

Dazed, my head screaming at me, Blasto shouted something. The room swam. Bright light flashed. My grip slipped and I toppled off the saddle.

Water closed around me, frigid and cool, soothing the soreness in my forehead, in my muscles, my joints. It was… comfortable. My lungs began to burn a few moments later and combined with my heart suddenly jackhammering in my ears I snapped out of it.

I broke the surface gasping only for a blaring klaxon to drive a spike into my brain before my earplugs compensated.

Kneeling in the water, I blinked away grit and water and tears of pain while getting blurry glimpses of what the room looked like around me as a light flashed. Toppled racks of equipment half lying in the water, thick conduit cables hanging, blinking consoles scattered about, a forklift, piles of scrap metal...

Closing my eyes, I ground a palm into my forehead as I rose from the water. I wavered, but slapping a hand out I got a hold of what I thought was one of Gumbo's knees.

I looked to the source of the flashes… oh. _Ooooh_. The jolt adrenaline that came from comprehension cut through the dizziness pretty well and all of a sudden a lot of things really weren't so important. My sore head, Alexandria, Eidolon, the noise—even the Endbringer outside were suddenly the least of my worries as I saw the source of the flashes atop some sort of platform.

Decommissioned my _ass_.

A bright arc of technicolor lightning arced off the— the— the _Obelisk_.

Made up of some dark metal with intricate silver engravings—like circuitry—and a madly spinning gyro at its peak. A dull crack echoed in through the cavernous room as a clear tube surrounding the thing that might have at one point been its containment cracked and came apart piece by piece. For a long moment I eyed the gyroscope at the top, an expanding and contracting sphere of nothing that warped the space around it hovering at the center of the rings.

Tinker Tech, there was nothing else it could be. But much, _much_ , more importantly: it was either damaged, or _malfunctioning_ Tinker Tech. And neither of those possibilities were good, I'd gotten caught up in—and seen—enough of Leet's tech failing on him to _know_ that that was nothing good.

I gripped and pawed at Gumbo, tried to turn around and get on, but— _I couldn't look away_. It _hurt_ to look at it, but-

A sharp splash and harsh sucking gasp from across the room. Someone still in here! Apparently, that was enough to snap me out of whatever held me in place and looking to the source I saw Alexandria. Her mask was cracked, her costume burned away and torn—she looked like she had been through hell as she clawed her way onto one of the equipment racks and relief washed through me.

She was ok. Well, she was trying to clear her lungs but—a bolt of technicolor lightning arced off the Obelisk and lanced across the room. It connected with Alexandria in a blinding flash that left me seeing spots with only a fading silhouette to show where the cape had once been. I blinked rapidly as I tried to clear my vision and- no, there was nothing wrong with my eyes. She was gone.

Alexandria, a cape that could go toe to toe with Leviathan, Behemoth, even the Simurgh and come out unharmed, and whatever the Obelisk was it had just—My skin turned clammy.

"Come _on_!" A hand clamped onto my wrist and jerked me against something scaled and wet and squishy—the saddle! I wasn't even sure where I was going, mostly working by touch, but I managed to scramble onto Gumbo's saddle and Gumbo started wading before I'd even gotten my feet hooked in.

I looked back to where Alexandria had been.

"Hey, uh, gonna need an exit here!"

I blinked one more time, before forcing myself to focus and look ahead of us. Reforming my weapon into a grenade launcher, I leaned out a little, sighted a wall in front of us, and pulled the trigger while Gumbo picked up speed and water surged around my legs.

However, even as the weapon jerked in my hands I barely heard or was even aware of the soft thoomp-thoomp-thoomp of the 40mm rounds firing or even blowing open a modest hole for us to escape through.

Dropping the launcher I grabbed at Blasto's hardcase before taking one last look to where Alexandria had been. And inadvertently, my eyes drifted back to the Obelisk, just in time to see it flash and for a fresh technicolor bolt to arc off and—


	5. 115

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.1.5

—

Everything… tingled, for a moment. From my fingernails to my toes to the very tips of my ears. It was like something between licking an old battery or how the air felt when charged with ozone from a coming storm and even without opening my eyes I could see where we were. At least for all of a moment. Wherever we were as we floated.

It was… nebulous, in a word. Swirling streams of color set against a golden sea of light. Pinpoints of White, Blue, Black, Red, and Green scattered about. Like infinitesimal specks of land.

It was something… eternal. Something so far beyond the scope of comprehension it dwarfed the Worms

Then it was gone and I was blinded as swirling flashes, dancing light, and strobing blackness drove a nail into my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut against the effects of Flash Blindness as gravity reasserted itself and my stomach jumped into my throat.

I clung to Blasto's hard case with a death grip while tightening my legs around Gumbo's belly as hard as I could. It didn't make a lick of difference when we landed a moment later and for the second time in as many minutes, my head slammed against the case as we came to a sudden and immediate stop.

Through the near incapacitating pain of another spike being driven into my brain, I heard a number of things. Shouting from Blasto, some kind of pained warbling that I assumed to be from Gumbo, crickets, splintering wood, and—maybe more important than the others—the groaning and creaking of metal straining against something before the groaning escalated into a short screech truncated by a grinding _snap_.

We fell, it was only a few feet, but once more my head smashed into the case a moment before the world tilted; my grip loosened, and I slipped off Gumbo's makeshift saddle.

Adrenaline surged as I slapped my hand out. Grasping and grabbing for something, _anything_ , to hold on. My fingernails tore uselessly at the quilted packing blanket saddle before catching on... something. The strap holding the blankets in place probably. Hanging there, I tightened my grip on the thing until my fingers touched.

Gumbo warbled softly as wood cracked and splintered, Blasto cursed, and pieces of something light fell on me.

I patted my free hand around blindly, not feeling anything but the saddle and the cold, damp scales and nubs along Gumbo's hide. As far as I knew, nothing else was within reach, but also as far as I knew something could be just out of reach and without being able to see— I grit my teeth in frustration and anticipation of the pain to come.

Like ripping off a band-aid I opened my eyes and looked around, blinking rapid fire to get a memory snapshot of every which direction as little needles of pain jabbed deep into my brain.

Blocking out everything else I breathed in slowly, drawing in through my nose and exhaling out my mouth as I trawled through what I'd glimpsed. Much of it was nothing but the indistinct light— but the later glimpses, those I could make out: A collapsed bit of wall that led into a building; Interconnected metal pipes that took me a moment to place as scaffolding; Gumbo half on and half off the walkway at the top of the scaffolding with his middle feet caught on a metal pole, Blasto barely hanging onto Gumbo thanks only to the reins and being on the upper half; Gumbos long tail swishing below us—

Metal groaned and wailed and we suddenly dropped several feet before jerking to a stop. Somehow I managed to keep my grip on the strap but it was a close thing and my arm burned from the strain. Wood cracked like a gunshot, and I barely managed to grab on with my other hand as Gumbo suddenly dropped again.

I looked up in time to for more of the light things to fall on me, little sharp shards that poked into my skin—wood chips, I realized as the thing started coming together. Gumbo had some pretty large talons so him getting a decent grip on some wood would have been no problem for him. But no matter how good a grip he had, he still weighed a _not_ inconsiderable amount.

At first, that hadn't been immediately noticeable— due to his extra pair of legs letting him distribute his weight more evenly, I assume. Some of the things Gumbo had jumped onto with his fore feet first, though… Well, sedans don't get crushed when something _light_ lands on them.

And now the lizard only had his forelegs to work with while his grip was coming apart under his claws… With Blasto and I pulling him down and acting as little more than dead weight, it was a miracle he was still hanging in there.

Without our weight, though…

Looking to my right I blinked and glimpsed the scaffolding. I held that image in my mind, sought out a good bar, and visualized how far away it was. Then, I pulled myself up and threw myself at it.

I knew what I was doing was a total crapshoot even as I did it. _Some_ practice and training in countering temporary sensory loss with my memory was one thing, but the situations that had actually required it had been rather few and far between. I wasn't exactly surprised when my elbows smashed into the bar I was reaching for and went numb as I tried to grab hold. I fell. I reached out. One, two, three bars smashed into my arms until I managed to catch myself.

My arms burned and ached like I'd been blocking blows from Colin— in his armor —but I hauled myself up anyway; practically wrapping myself around the bar as I looked up the scaffolding to Blasto. "Get off," I called and, blinking to get a fresh picture of things, reached for the next bar and began my climb.

It was… a difficult climb. Hand holds were aplenty, and the rough texture of the metal—rust, from how it gave way and crumbled in some places—helped me keep my grip and footing. However, despite the bit of healing I'd inadvertently gotten from the Lizard-themed Ambassador, it was a challenge to just reach for the next hand or foothold a number of times.

I made do, though. And things did get easier. Constant stretching loosened up sore muscles and bruised tissues, while regularly blinking to update my course helped my vision clear up bit by bit. It wasn't perfect, some things still twinged—a few more painfully than others—and I couldn't see beyond a few yards, but when I hauled myself over the railing I was able to hurry to Blasto's side and help with Gumbo.

I stepped up beside the struggling Tinker and Gumbo, took one look at how Blasto was pulling on the reins, how Gumbo was tearing apart the boards of the walkway… and saw how little effect the two of them were having. They were working, as Ethan put it, 'Hard, not smart.'

I turned around and kicked at the blocks along the edge of the hole in the wall. It didn't move. Whatever had caused the hole, the rest of the wall was rock solid.

Green and black energy swirled and around me as it settled into my hands. Taking the form of a short, one-handed scythe in one hand, and a coil of fine linked chain running out the bottom that terminated in a small weight in the other. A kusarigama. It was, by all appearances, an almost hilariously impractical weapon, but one that was somehow practical. Especially when re-designed with a bit more utilitarian frame of mind.

Pulling a lever on the back of the handle, the cutting blade dropped on a pivot and locked into a notch in the handle as the mechanism holding it in place was released. Then, an internal spring made four jagged hooks snap out from its upper half. Now, it was a grappling hook.

Dropping it into the room and pulling the chain tight, I looped the links through the reins and stepped back into the room. Letting the links slip through my fingers, I propped my boots against the wall and wrapping a bit of the chain around my forearm slowly leaned back until I was almost horizontal.

Inch by inch Gumbo pulled himself; Blasto pulling directly on the reigns while I reeled them in and kept the lizard from slipping back. With how tight the chain had pulled I wasn't going to be surprised to see some nice links on my arm in the hours ahead.

Eventually, though, I suddenly fell on my butt as the chain slackened and Gumbo managed to get his middle legs nails onto the edge of the walkway and with one final heave pushed himself the rest of the way up. My weapon shifted and coalesced into a shotgun as the giant lizard stepped into the room a bit before his head snaked back around and quietly warbled at Blasto.

The two eyed each other, Gumbo looking down on Blasto as the Tinker stared up at him. Neither Gumbo's golden-orange eyes or Blasto's brown blinked before the lizard ducked its head and I saw it appear between its legs.

He tilted its head and scraped at the edge of the block until the leather bands holding his bit in place slipped loose. Then leaning forward a little, he opened his mouth and dropped the bit and reins at Blasto's feet.

"Cheeky shit," Blasto muttered.

Gumbo just warbled back at him in return, then turned and trundled deeper into the room, pausing to duck his head and bump my shoulder. I looked back at him, watching Gumbo as he paused and snaked his head back and forth to briefly examine the decaying room before simply tromping for the wall directly behind me.

Ducking its head and sniffing, it pawed at several spots along the carpet then promptly dropped down and went limp as he spread himself out across the floor… I snorted and shook my head. Yeah, no way there wasn't _some_ cat in him.

Sighing, I turned back around and pressed the buttons on the armband to ping the system as Blasto sat down on the edge of the wall.

"Pickup request: Low priority."

Blasto glanced back over his shoulder at me, staring at me for a moment before stopping and coming back up with the reins and bit in hand. He looked back out past the railing as he slowly wound the reins.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, I breathed deeply as I waited. Though, I couldn't help but grimace. The air, it smelled… funny. Different. It didn't have the sharp, electrical scent of ozone or the fresh cleanliness that usually came after a storm. And it didn't have the faint odor of car exhaust either that pervaded pretty much every urban area… I sighed again.

Different air, different location than where we left, different weather— the Obelisk, it had to be a teleporter of some kind. Or something like that. I just hoped it hadn't sent us too far away, though—I pressed the buttons again—and that Dragon would get the ping and be able to respond soon.

Once upon a time, Colin had spoken candidly about them while tweaking their design with Dragon. Despite the Armbands being almost entirely made from Non-Tinker components, they had an incredible degree of redundancy crammed into them. In particular, in its communications suite.

They were supposed to work in almost any scenario; utilizing everything from armband to armband relay, cellular networks, low-frequency radio, or even limited satellite uplink to maintain an organized front. It may have been a bit much, but having it and not needing it was all but standard practice when it came to facing the Endbringers.

So, I wasn't exactly worried about her not getting the signal, rather it was the question of just where' we had ended up at. I'd _reeeaaaally_ rather not have to defend myself— or Blasto —and start an international incident.

Something flew past and I snapped my head to the source to see Blasto's empty Life Preserver satchel land next to Gumbo with a metallic clink. Gumbo opened an eye and sniffed at the bag for a few moments before Blasto stepped into my periphery.

Shrugging his shoulders, he slipped off his hard case and walked deeper into the room to drop it next to Gumbo.

"Guard," he grunted, rolling his neck and reaching to the peeling ceiling as he rose onto his toes.

I watched as Gumbo opened his other eye and briefly looked up at his creator before snaking his head to the case and sniffing. He peered at it from a few different angles and even licked it before one of his thick forelegs reached out and dragged the case close. Then enclosing his limbs around the case protectively he set his head down on it and closed his eyes.

It was like… like watching a big cat guard his kill. A great big six-legged lizard-cat with a bit of guard dog mixed in… Yeah, that definitely didn't help with wanting one.

"You might wanna' take some of that stuff of to dry and get comfortable," Blasto said, shrugging of his long brown coat and draping it over Gumbo's rear flank. "Getting a cold and compromising your immune system before we find a place to hole up—" he grunted as he shucked his soaked shirt "—would be a bad."

Not bad advice, but a bit pessimistic. Though on the other hand, Supervillain Tinker. I shuffled around to face the hole and closed my eyes. "Thanks, but I doubt it'll be that long before someone is sent for us."

"I'm— sorry, but are you kidding me?"

"Of course. Even if we were sent to Africa or somewhere in Europe Dragon can find us and will send for help. Either someone local or one of the Movers that work Search and Rescue." I glanced back at him and smiled, "Those life preservers you made, they helped. Really, no matter what you may think, something the Protectorate doesn't do is leave people hanging after they help with an Endbringer."

That wasn't quite true, the Protectorate and PRT did a dirty dealing that anyone off the street would frown upon if brought to light. But for something like the Endbringer fights, no, if you answered the call and contributed they would help however they could as long as it was within reason.

"That's…" Blasto trailed off and snorted. "Wow. Just— I'm honestly not sure if you're delusional or blind and I somehow didn't notice. Take a good look out there Dorothy, I don't know what you're thinkin' but that sure as shit ain't Kansas."

I rounded on Blasto and fixed him with a hard glare as he leaned back against Gumbo and pulled at his shoes.

"I'm flash-blind from the teleporter, not delusional. If there's something I'm missing then how about you actually try explaining it instead of beating around the bush?"

He flushed a little before he shook his head. "Sorry. If you'd said something— How's your vision doing? Are the spots fading or are they still prominent? Or is it more of a blurriness?"

"Getting better but I can't see long distance, yet. And don't dodge the question. _What. Am I. Missing?_ "

Blasto let go of his shoe and stared back at me for a long moment before gesturing past me. "We aren't in Africa or anything. That thing, it wasn't a teleporter. We're still in Boston— hell it's a bit small, but where we are now, we're in a wing of the Institutes' record building. And the skyline… it's completely different— It's..." Ducking his head he ran his hands through his hair and groaned. Leaning back again he met my gaze, "It's not' different in the 'a few buildings fell down' kind of way. We're in Boston, just… not our' Boston."

"You think we're somehow on an alternate Earth," I stated, "Like Aleph."

Blasto just shrugged and made a little gesture with his hands. "Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is most likely the correct one."

I shook my head. "Tinkers have been trying to recreate Haywire's work for years with little to show for it and you think _that's_ the simplest explanation?" I shook my head and closed my eyes as I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

"Fine," he snapped. "Your vision isn't cleared up yet then it should be ten minutes or so. If you don't believe your own eyes then I don't know what to tell you."

Another Earth? That was just— the kind of leap in logic... I sighed.

Well, he was right about one thing. I would know what he was talking about when I could see the evidence for myself. I opened my eyes and looked around. Still blurry, but better.

After a few seconds of staring into gradually clearing blurry-black, I scooched forward a bit and turned around so I could lean back against the masonry. Tilting my head I closed my eyes and visualized the night sky from the top of the rig. Light pollution from the city often kept me from seeing the stars, but on certain nights—after a storm or during a blackout—the night sky lit up to me. It was that sky I remembered in my mind's eye as I traced the stars from a memory of a clear night, not a week after I'd transferred to the Bay.

I still hadn't counted or identified all the stars in the years since there were just so many and...

I opened my eyes to look up at a clear night sky.

Almost the same as what I could see from Brockton. My angle was different, but that wasn't enough to not recognize the points of light. We were definitely on the east coast, somewhere.

Feeling at my armband, I pressed the buttons when I noticed something… off. Or rather, it was the lack of something. Watching the sky, I held my focus and waited, watching, looking for the not quite stars that littered the sky of my memory to slide past the other points of light.

Even after a few minutes of hunting, I couldn't find any.

"There are no satellites."

"Occam's Razor," Blasto mumbled before yawning, "'F'you cn' see that thn', take a look ov'r tha' river. N' the Harv'rd brig'. Nev'r had a bas'le... 'fore."

I swallowed and glanced down to Blasto where he was leaned back against Gumbo, his coat draped over him. The idea that this wasn't Bet… it was just...

I shifted to look out past the courtyard to what was unmistakably the Charles River. About halfway to the other side, the Harvard Bridge emerged from behind the building where a tugboat with a barge half again its size had rammed itself up and under some sort of drawbridge type section.

That hadn't been a feature of the bridge the last time I'd visited Melissa— and how could a tugboat have possibly gotten past the dam locks with a barge that large?

My eyes traced down the construction to the other side of the river then went up, and up, and up… My guts twisted and constricted into a knot as I traced the skyline.

Where Boston's financial and downtown districts had been littered with glittering and brightly lit modern Skyscrapers and office buildings covered in glass. Now, all I saw were colonial style apartment buildings with a freeway rising up over the rooftops and a small number of towering structures further into the city— One, in particular, caught my eye. An oddly designed building with a bulge at the top, bold letters near its upper reaches spelling out 'Mass Fusion.'

It… This is what Blasto had seen and… My mouth turned dry.

He lived here. I had only visited the city a handful of times, but in spite of that, the differences were clear as day and just kept piling up. The freeway, the buildings, the bridge, the tug, and barge— heck, as Blasto said, this was the Institute's' courtyard and the Rotunda was—

I jerked back to hug the bricks as I caught a bit of motion. After a few seconds I peeked back out, it took only a moment to spot the source. A person, _big_ , easily over six feet with something walking beside them. A... dog?

I watched for a moment as my weapon shifted into a short barreled 22. with a night vision scope... I wanted to say it was a dog, but the gait— The hair on my neck stood on end as I saw the magnified teeth, thick neck and sunken eyes... that was no dog. I shifted my aim to stare at crude metal plates hanging from a grotesquely muscled frame… and that was no human.

At one point, but now… It was like a caricature of seeing an owner walking his pet. Whatever had been done to them, or whatever they were, was related. Both were bald, hairless, and hulking—literally—with muscles on top of muscles.

Swallowing, I slowly— so as not to catch its attention —pulled the 22. back and set it between my knees. Out of sight but at the ready. It changed, though, becoming twenty-six pounds of bullpup anti-material rifle and it stayed that way as the thing disappeared and the night grew dark.

—

1.5. Finally. This was way more drawn out than I'd intended when I re-wrote the intro… Probably gonna need to go back and par those snips down into something more manageable I'm thinking.

Pretty much pure Fallout-verse(Albeit with gaps filled in and liberties taken) from here on- as far as I have planned -and… oh my. Mutants, monsters, slaving and cannibalistic raiders, racism, robo version of invasion of the body snatchers and a high as a kite zombie crime lord mayor that's a better person than the civilized one... who's his brother... Well, good thing M&M has her unlimited ammo console commands and Blasto is Bullshit.

Vaults=Shelters... Yeah, tha'd definitely be some shamalamalon nonsense :D


	6. 121

Critical Mass (Worm/Fallout) 1.2.1

—

I could never forget the sound of gunfire. Storming out of the alleyway, I ducked low and took cover, hugging the front fender of a rusted-out sedan as the shooters shifted aim; the vehicle shook and shuddered from dozens of impacts. Over to the side, Armsmaster gave the thumbs-up once the firing stopped, and I rose out of cover, aiming at the mass of strung-out Merchants now in the middle of reloading. Rubber bullets spat out of my rifle as I raked it from left to right, forcing the Merchants to retreat and giving Armsmaster enough time to enter the fray, his halberd flashing as he brought it down on a hapless thug.

I was reforming my weapon to get a fresh magazine in place when a deep, throaty growl of an engine roared to life but was immediately cut off as an overwhelming _boom!_ sounded right beside me. A gunshot and a high caliber one at that. My ears rang painfully from the concussive blast, _despite_ the adaptative earplugs I had. Where had it come from? Where had it...

When I opened my eyes and saw Blasto in a wide shooter's stance with a large revolver in his hands, I reacted. I didn't panic. I didn't ask questions. I just _moved_. As I dove to the side, my weapon leapt into my hands, forming a shotgun just as a familiar looking mountain of green muscle fell into the room. The floor shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling when it landed.

It was dead as dead could get, its head a bloody mess of brain and bone splattered across the rotted blue carpet. Nevertheless, Blasto stepped up and put another two rounds into the back of its skull and spine, the shots echoing with a thunderous report in the enclosed room. Then he grabbed one of the creature's thick arms, jamming the revolver into the back of his pants at the same time.

He pulled once, barely moving it before looking to me. "Well, _help_ ," he snapped.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" I growled as I moved over to him and briefly scanned the courtyard.

"Self defense," Blasto grunted and gave the green arm a tug. "A local. Some kind of mutant I think. Now _pull._ If any of the others see it and come up here, we're boned!"

...Others? I'd only seen the one and the dog creature, but... Yes, if there were others out there that were just as big then that _would_ be bad. I wanted to know what the hell had happened, but that could wait until the situation wasn't so critical.

Grabbing the other arm, we worked together to drag the giant off the wall and the rest of the way into the room. It had to have been six hundred pounds muscle, easy. We could barely move it, and despite the two of us working at it, we had to get creative.

Eventually, we just settled with getting it into the room and hidden behind what remained of the wall. Not good enough by any means but it would have to do.

I knelt next to the wall, keeping an eye out for anyone—or anything—that might be attracted by the sound of Blasto's hand cannon.

"So," I said, peeking out the hole in the crumbling wall while holding my rifle to bring it up at a moments notice, "you want to tell me why I woke up to you blowing the face off a 'local'?"

Blasto grunted noncommittally in the background, casings rattling and tinkling against each other as he pulled out the spent rounds and reloaded the cylinder of his revolver one cartridge at a time. "Was working on something when big, green, and ugly interrupted. Must've seen me or something. One moment I'm working then before I know it, it's running up the scaffolding screaming about how it's 'time for me to die.'"

I glanced at the cooling corpse before going back to scanning the courtyard. "...I see. What else happened before I woke up?"

"Well… aside from ugly here, I can tell you we aren't alone here."

"You saw other people," I asked, a flicker of hope welling up in me. If there were other people around, then there might still be civilization somewhere. We'd need to be careful about how we went about it, but we might have a chance at figuring out just what the hell was going on here and get a lay of the land.

"No. Well, maybe, I might have. I don't know." He growled, "I think heard someone talking nearby when I was waking up. For all I know though, that was just my mind playing tricks on me since I was still half asleep. No, I'm talking about the folks that started shooting at each other at around two in the morning."

"...Shooting?"

"Yup. From across the river. Short ways into the buildings if I had to guess. Sounded like something out of a war zone for a little while."

I shifted my eyes toward the city across the river, tracing its alien skyline for a few moments before returning to watching the courtyard. "Could you make out any specifics?" I probed and shifted a little, letting the barrel of my rifle rest on my shoulder. "Number and type? That sort of thing?"

Clicking his tongue, I heard him rummaging about for a few moment before he answered. "Well, I'm not sure. Guns aren't really my thing so I may be wrong, but it sounded like a lot of small caliber stuff. Pistols and such. Most of the shooting was the standard _pop-pop-pop_ from that kind of stuff. Although there was also some louder stuff that carried."

"Was there anything that sounded fully automatic? Like one long burst of fire or anything like that?" I asked.

"Far as I could tell, no. Just semi-autos."

I narrowed my eyes and glanced at the city again. So, small caliber weapons with some shotguns and hunting rifles mixed in most likely. Things that civilians could get ammunition for in bulk, the kind of stuff that people could gather together with enough time scavenging neighborhoods or looting sporting stores.

A lack of _anything_ more than semi-auto didn't mean much _per se_ —there were plenty of fully automatic weapons in civilian circulation. But it was the absence of _any_ —in contrast to there being a few as I expected—that indicated that the conflict might have had been between two non-governmental factions. They must have lacked the capacity to produce such weapons or their munitions in any significant quantity that they could be utilized.

It wasn't exactly unexpected. With the state of this place, factionalization and tribalism arising was unsurprising. It often happened after an Endbringer attack after all. Take a disaster zone, add in a breakdown of law and order with a lack of resources acting as a catalyst… it was a ready to go conflict. Actual wars between nations had been waged for less.

The idea had holes big enough to drive a truck through. I was partially basing this on presumptions that might not necessarily apply to this version of Earth. However, at the same time, it _did_ fit in line with most disaster scenarios, so it was likely somewhat applicable.

"At any rate," he continued, "they were really going at it and I didn't see any mutants running towards it. Maybe it was people like us, or maybe it was just more of these things. Either way, if we're lucky, the locals here are as desensitized to gunfire as ours are at home. If so, hopefully it'll keep the other mutants from looking around."

I wanted to argue about how civilians shouldn't _be_ desensitized to the sound of gunfire; I wanted to argue that Brockton Bay and Boston weren't like that… But I knew it would ring hollow and that I would have been deluding myself. So instead, I said nothing and only hoped that the sound of just a few gunshots wouldn't be worth investigating.

"Anyway, I was kinda surprised you managed to sleep through it all."

"I've dealt with worse," I said evenly, returning to look out for any possible threats, bracing my rifle against the wall for a more comfortable position. "Did you hear anything else?" Blasto didn't say anything for a while, and I heard him rummaging about in the background.

"No. But I think I'd say it's a good possibility that there are still humans around."

"I thought you said—"

"The mutants," he interrupted. "They can speak English, at least a few of them. It wasn't anything _close_ to the King's English, and I got the sense that even that was a struggle for them, but it was still somewhat understandable."

I glanced back this time and for a moment spied him from the corner of my eye as he fiddled around next to the Lizard. " _And_?"

"It's nothing concrete. But, about an hour before you woke up a group of the big guys were wandering through. All green, tall, tough-looking bastards, like ugly except—-"

"And you didn't think to wake me up for _that_?" I tried not to sound accusatory. Really, I tried.

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ ," he drawled sarcastically. "I was a mite more concerned about keeping out of sight and as quiet as I could for almost the entire night, and you were passed out, alright?" He sighed and continued, "As I was saying. They were wandering through all night. Usually alone but a couple were in pairs and besides some grunting, they were pretty quiet. I didn't even think they could talk until the group came. I was able to get a look, and there was this big one, covered in scrap metal armor or something. A real loud bastard, just bitching and moaning. I didn't understand much of it, but one thing that stood out was, and I quote, 'Stupid Humies.'"

"Humies? As in..."

"Yeah. I don't know about you, but to me, Humies sounds a lot like stupid for Human."

"I see," I said neutrally. "So you think it might have been a group of them and humans fighting each other."

"Wouldn't doubt it, we're kinda stupid but we humans _do_ tend to put aside personal grudges and team up to fight the bigger threat. With how ugly reacted to me, I think these things would qualify."

Listening to him ramble for a bit longer, I smiled as I looked out on the courtyard. Yes, for as much as we fought we still had the capacity to help each other. To save each other, even if on opposing sides.

Maybe the two of us did have a chance after all.

Whoever it had been out there must have had some means of protection. No way would small caliber weapons be enough to keep them safe if things like the mutant were lurking around. And thinking of defenses just made me all the more aware of our glaring _lack_ of them.

"We're going to need to move," I mused. "If these things are that aggressive, we'll need to go somewhere that isn't so exposed. Somewhere we won't have to worry about getting attacked."

"I was thinking that same and... I _may_ have a few ideas on that. This place may _look_ a bit different to what I know, but this is still Boston, and this is still M.I.T."

The next several minutes passed in silence, with Blasto continuing to do... whatever it was he was doing while I kept watch. Nothing happened, for which I was grateful, but as time ran on the thought that nothing was coming percolated and took root. Then, after several more minutes of kneeling there waiting, I felt my stomach rumble and I called it quits.

Besides, I was starting to get hungry, and it _had_ been awhile since I'd eaten anything.

The rifle shifted and blurred in a kaleidoscopic haze of green and black before it changed into a sheathed knife strapped to my hip. I checked my watch: it was close to seven o'clock.

The last time I'd eaten had been dinner on the Rig. A big slice of meatloaf with a potato and greens… then the sirens had sounded.

I absently touched at my pockets, looking for one of the granola bars I usually kept on me. No such luck. Hopefully, there was something to scrounge up: that giant had to have been eating _something_ to get that big or maybe… With a question on my lips, I looked to Blasto as he stepped away from the lizard and saw a large, greenish, semi-translucent sack growing off an umbilical running to its back. Inside was a distinctly humanoid shape.

"...Blasto?"

"Hm?" He caught my eyes, following them to where I was looking. "Oh, yeah, the Orkan. I figured Gumbo wasn't going to cut it if we needed some muscle and well…" He gestured to the body of the giant as he knelt down, taking a scalpel out of his coat and began cutting into it, placing a slice inside a clear plastic bag. "There you go, another hour and it should be good to go. Fortunately," he said, now drawing blood into a vial, "I was able to use one of my premade templates since I don't have any equipment. Bad news, though, is that it was necessary to accelerate the growth a fair bit. More than I'm comfortable with honestly. But for the time being it should work just fine until it expires."

Grimacing at the grisly mess Blasto was making, I turned away and stared firmly at my lap, trying to think too hard about the fact that it seemed like the sack—or rather _womb_ —had grown so quickly. It… I hadn't been thinking about it, but this was what he did. He was a wet-tinker, he worked with organic material to create things. Things that were just...

I wanted to say something to Blasto, but I kept my mouth closed. I needed to think this over more carefully.

I occupied myself by shifting my weapon into a pistol and slowly disassembled it. I got through three different pistols by the time Blasto shuffled away from the giant and settled back down next to the sack; digging into his overcoat and pulling out what looked like a small toiletry bag. For all I knew, it was. A small bit of normal next to the abnormal.

Seeing him going back to work on the womb though helped me make my decision. "It isn't going to be sentient, is it?"

He paused as he pulled a small syringe away from the womb. "Beyond enough intelligence to make it useful... no, not really. Maybe somewhere between gorilla and chimpanzee, if we're lucky." Scratching his head, he glanced at the womb and shook his head. "This is pretty quick and dirty, though, so I'd more realistically expect something along the lines of something with limited problem-solving abilities and the ability to tell between friend and foe… Like a trained dog. It'll be muscle that can follow basic instructions, plain and simple."

He snorted. "Hell, Gumbo will be smarter, and he's about as dumb as a bag of bricks."

Hearing his name, the lizard raised its head to blink its golden eyes at us before it gurgled and laid its head back down.

I sat there quietly and watched as Blasto worked. He poked, prodded, and injected things into the womb, and I had to force myself to keep watching.

It was disturbing on a base and primitive level, to see him work on that unnatural _thing_.

Still, as time went on, I couldn't help but see a certain… _craftsmanship_ to what he was doing. In a way, his focus and drive reminded me of Colin whenever he had an idea, and Blasto might as well have had a halberd before him instead.

Whatever was he was growing, however, it was still disconcerting—despite it being his specialization—just how quickly and easily he had gone and created something. There were barriers in place against that type of thing—and not without good reasons or precedent. I knew just how many regulations Blasto was breaking, the lines that he was crossing. And yet…

This wasn't the time to get caught up in the legalities. It wasn't like we were even in a place where they could realistically be applied anyway. So I kept my peace and watched him work.

The world wasn't cut into neat lines between right and wrong, black and white. Shades of grey existed everywhere, where allowances could and sometimes _needed_ to be made. And in a situation like this, even as much as I disliked it… perhaps letting Blasto do his thing was for the best.

It wasn't the first time I'd had to compromise. Probably wouldn't be the last either.

Seeing the thing twitch in the womb, though, I had to close my eyes andI draw in a slow, deep breath.

A noise woke me from my reverie. I opened my eyes to see Blasto muttering to himself before he pushed back a sleeve to check a wristwatch. Fiddling with it for a moment, he glanced at the womb before digging through the bag and pulling out an off-white penlet—the type that people with low blood sugar used to draw blood for testing. "I'm going to need a little blood sample. So the Orkan will recognize you as a friendly and take orders."

I stared at the penlet as he held it out and frowned.

"Look, I know you don't have much reason to trust me, but until the Tinkers back home figure things out we're going to be stuck here for _God knows how long._ So, for the foreseeable future, we're gonna need to work together if we want to live long enough for your people to send rescue."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound awfully sure there's going to be a rescue. The only way to reach another reality was lost with Professor Haywire. For all you know, we're stuck here."

"The only _known_ , way," he quickly corrected as he became more animated. "Our being here now proves there are other ways after all. Besides, Alexandria got zapped just like we did, and they aren't going to take losing _her_ lying down." Waving his hand, he gestured outside, to the world beyond, "She's still out there somewhere, whether it's here or another reality."

Focusing back on me, he smiled knowingly and held up a finger. "But for her, I think they'll pull out all the stops to get her back and with a bit of luck, we'll get picked up in the process. But for the time being, we're gonna need to _work together._ "

Despite the circumstances, I smiled a little. Somehow, Blasto was staying optimistic—if being a bit presumptive about things.

He proffered the penlet again. "So what do you say? Truce?"

I stared at the device for a long moment. Could I do this? Could I work with him until rescue came? By giving him some of my blood—even if it just a drop—I'd be all but jumping in with both feet.

I glanced it over at his creation, the reason he needed my blood. The shape had gained more definition. It looked like it was tucked in on itself, but it was big. More than just muscle, _protection_ : a new creature to shield him from whatever else was out there.

Was he afraid that I'd just up and leave him?

Glancing back at him, I actually _looked_ at him, noticing for the first time the redness in his eyes, the trembling in his shoulders, and how his hands shook ever so slightly. There was a brittleness to him, a fragility I had failed to notice when he'd been giving his spiel.

Perhaps I hadn't been the only one he'd been trying to convince.

As much as I needed his help, he needed mine. And putting it like that… I'd become a hero in the first place because I wanted to help people. I knew the circumstances weren't the same: Blasto was no innocent, no mere bystander. But, right now, he was all I had. And I was all that he had. We were in this together, and trust had to start somewhere.

"Oh, what the hell," I muttered, taking the penlet and pricking my finger with it. Blood welled up and Blasto gently placed a small vial beneath the wound, filling it with the red liquid.

"Cool." Taking the penlet back, he reached to the corner of his face and peeled it away to show a different and distinctly younger one beneath. Paler, with a sharper bone structure and dark circles under bloodshot eyes. "Name's Rey."

After another moment of hesitation, I hooked my finger and pulled down my bandana. "Hana."


	7. 122

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.2.2

—

"Let's go over the plan one more time."

"Again? Are you kidding me? For fuck's sake, what _else_ is there to go over?"

Closing my eyes, I fought the simultaneous urge to sigh and smack him upside the head. Not even an hour into partnership and I was already regretting not stipulating more ground rules than I had. Though, even those had been difficult for him to agree to. Shifting my weight, I leaned back against the room's peeling blue wallpaper, my weapon—in the form a scoped rifle—cradled loosely in my arms as I kept one eye on the weed-choked courtyard and the other on the opposing riverfront. Just in case any last minute surprises showed up as Blasto put the finishing touches on the Orkan. It was Dutch for Hurricane, apparently.

"Just humor me, Rey," I said, consciously using his real name for emphasis.

He exhaled sharply. "Fine. We get inside and hunt around for some records or documents that might give us an idea about what happened to this Earth and scavenge what we can use along the way. Then, we find a way into the utility tunnels and try to find a store room that we can fort up in while I get started on some food before we're forced to eat Gumbo," he breathed deep as he finished. "Happy, _Hana?,_ " He asked blithely.

No. "And if there are any of the mutants inside the building?"

"Don't shoot unless seen and keep out of sight until they're gone."

"Don't shoot unless you're spotted, _and_ they attack first," I amended. "But let the Orkan and I handle things so you can conserve your ammo." Then I got to my main point and the source of my frustration. "And if we are unable to find any of the access points into the tunnels? What then? What are you going to need to Tinker?"

"We…" He came up short and sighed. "They'll be there. There's no reason they wouldn't be."

"But if they _aren't_ ," I stressed, shifting slightly to look at him. "As far as we know they may have never been built or were sealed off long before we ever got here. Or, they're in a state of disrepair and unsuitable due to whatever happened to this place. Putting your security in what you _think_ you know will only come back to bite you if you don't plan around it. Don't assume something is the same just because it's familiar."

"You think I'm not aware of that," he snapped and glared back over his shoulder. " _Yes_ , I know there's a _chance_ that they might not be there. And _yes,_ I know something might have happened to them. However, the odds are better that they're there and intact than not. The damn things were built right alongside the first campus back in the 1860's when MIT was originally Boston Tech. They used them for storage and transportation and stuff when the weather was shit before they were converted for utilities. They're there." He turned back to the womb— or rather, the 'amniotic sac', as he'd _enthusiastically_ clarified earlier.

"But if not?"

"They'll be there," he reiterated.

I was probably on thin ice pushing him, but I kept it up. I'd be _damned_ if something happens that could have been avoided with a bit of foreplanning, not when I had the opportunity to quash it before it became an issue. "But if _not_?"

He was quiet for a long moment, slouched and still before tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling. "If we can't find a way into the tunnels… Well, then we're fucked," he shrugged and leaned over the now murky-brown and non-translucent sac to poke and prod. "Though, I spose' we won't be much worse off than we already are…" He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "You said that barge out there was clear, right?"

Shouldering my rifle, I peered through the scope and skimmed over the containers stacked on it and along the crude wooden walkways that had been constructed between a few containers and the tug.

"From the looks of it. I may be wrong, though."

"Then if the tunnels are a bust that'll have to do. With a few containers and the river I should be able to make something useful— mind, it'll be crap, but it'll be _something_. After that maybe we can go check out one of those skyscrapers downtown and see how that works out... Or maybe Fenway Park. Either or. Happy?"

"Better. And that wasn't that hard now, was it?"

"No. But you don't need to be a condescending bitch about it and lecture _me_ about planning ahead. My lab's been trashed enough times I know all about planning ahead," he snorted. "Shit, I'd like to see Armsmaster or some other Protectorate Tinker have enough of their shit ready to go and restart their work without having to sell the farm. But that's besides the point., I _know_ how to plan ahead, I just think you're wrong and that the tunnels will be there."

A glance at my watch had me wanting to beat my head against the wall. Not even an hour and it was like pulling teeth… although, it wasn't just him. My stomach made its displeasure known and twisted itself into a knot.

"Sorry. I'm I'm not trying to harp on you, just getting a little hungry."

Waving it off he went back to work. "I get it. I'd probably be chomping at the bit too if I hadn't had a brownie. So don't sweat it, once we find somewhere I'll check my stocks. I can't recall off the top of my head but I should have something that can hold us over, and Gumbo still has a good bit of meat on his bones if it comes down to it."

Said lizard warbled in protest, but we ignored his antics and raising my rifle I put an eye to the scope to take another look at the Barge. In particular, to take another look at the rusty speckled—but intact looking—green tank on the side of the barge facing the campus… Although, examining its rounded nose and bulky curves, maybe tank wasn't accurate. Calling it an APC or IFV was likely closer to the mark, what with how bulky and rounded it was along with how it had tires rather than tracks.

Eyeing it a moment longer, I hummed in thought as an idea percolated before moving on to the city beyond. Now that it was light out, without the green tint of the night scope, it was even clearer just how sorry a state it was in. Trash, debris, and refuse had piled up in the streets and along walls; storefronts on the street level were almost universally boarded up or had been broken in with their interiors little more than trash filled ruins. Everything else… It was only more of the same. Entryways and windows boarded up or covered in sheets of peeling plywood.

It may have just been the buildings along the riverfront and not representative of the city as a whole, but I doubted it. One look at the skyscrapers and anyone could see they were in just as similar a state of disrepair and decay. Shattered window, metal panels peeling off, and whole sections of their skeletal framing exposed to the elements.

However, there was one thing that did give me a smidgen of hope. An oil drum in an alleyway with a bit of smoke curling out of its mouth. Someone, rather than some _thing_ , hopefully, had lit a fire in it at some point. And recently too, from the looks of it.

A strained grunt, an unsettling squishing sound, and a heavy _thump_ that shook the floor drew my attention back to what Blasto was doing. I lowered my weapon and looked over to see he'd flipped the sac over and was now almost kneeling on top of it. Pressing down and pushing at the tightly curled form of the Orkan within, he struggled to make it lay flat. Almost straining from the effort, he pressed down on what looked like its thighs and knees to force the legs straight.

I offered to help as he then tried, and failed, to shift the bulges of its arms off its chest and to the sides of its body.

Grunting, he glanced up for only a moment before pushing at the limbs again. "M'fine."

I shrugged, and a few minutes later he had the Orkan lying flat with the reddish-brown sac stretched taut to accommodate its tall frame… Though, even if it was a coincidence, it looked an awfully lot like a wrapped corpse… Grimacing at the morbid thought, I instead focused on Blasto as he pulled and pressed at various parts of the sac. He concentrated on areas around the limbs, and slowly it began resembling something more akin to a mannequin. A red, broad chested, three fingered, two-toed, mannequin. Bigger than I'd thought it was when it had been curled up, though.

Blasto suddenly pushed himself up and looked down at the Orkan, cocking his head this way and that, moving to look at it from different angles. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, "Smaller than I expected," he muttered, and I goggled at the Orkan as he stepped away to rifle through his coat.

Eyeing the Orkan, I used Blasto's shoes—size twelves or elevens from the look of them—to estimate its height and width. It was just a guess, but I put the thing at just around seven feet tall with an almost two-foot shoulder width.

But—Gears locked up and my thoughts ground to a halt. If this was small, then what was normal? And if normal was something noticeably larger, then what was _big_? My stomach churned a little.

Coming back, I heard a creaking _snap_ and caught the sharp scent of a sharpie as he knelt down beside the Orkan. He touched at the sac, tracing lines with his fingers and muttering to himself before he started making marks, dashes, and lines all across the taut surface of the sac. He even rolled it over to make some quick marks on the back before rolling it back again.

Sitting back, he cocked his head and examined his work for a few seconds. "Whaddya' think?"

Quirking an eyebrow, I eyed the black marks he'd made along and encircling its neck, torso, and limbs. "...Good?"

He tilted his head the other way before shrugging. "Eh. I guess it'll work."

Slipping the sharpie into his jeans back pocket, he reached across the Orkan and felt along behind it, pulling out his travel bag- kit- thing after a few seconds searching and rummaging through it for a few seconds more. Then he took out a gleaming silver scalpel and leaning over the Orkan; he started cutting.

With a deft, practiced hand; he made quick, but shallow and precise, incisions along the lines he'd marked on the sac. They oozed a clear-murky fluid and ran onto the carpet, but he paid it no mind before he was flipping it over to continue the cuts along the backside of the sac until they connected with all the cuts from the front.

Flipping the Orkan back over, I continued to watch on, out of curiosity more than anything, as he silently examined his work until the places where he'd cut began peeling back. It was slow, but it defined the areas he cut enough for me to get an inkling of what he might have been doing. Then reaching out he pulled the umbilical taut and cut it from the sac at its base.

"Should just be a few minutes now. Then we can head out."

I blinked at the stump of the umbilical, eyes wide as Blasto shuffled past and began packing his kit and things.

I snapped my head in his direction as he donned his coat. "Doesn't it need that to live?" I asked, rather alarmed that, for all intents and purposes, he'd just _cut the thing that provided oxygen to an unborn lifeform_.

Picking up, zipping, and pocketing his little travel bag, he briefly looked to the Orkan and shrugged. "No, not really."

Of course not. It wasn't machines computers or chemicals, but still, Tinker. "...I see."

I didn't, but if Blasto picked that up, he didn't bother to elaborate as he went back to packing up. I wasn't sure if I was glad for that or not.

A few _long_ minutes after Blasto 'cut the cord' that had me glancing at the Orkan every few seconds, I heard a wet-dry… crinkling sound. The closest comparison I could make was that it sounded like crumpling a leaf and looking to the source I watched as sections of the amniotic sac peeled away from the Orkan—rather like an orange peel drying out—and revealing what looked like fine, dark green scales.

I rolled my shoulders, shifting my weapon uneasily as a section of the sac peeled away from a bicep as thick around as my head and it became a shotgun loaded with hollowpoint slugs. What I'd felt in my gut at seeing just how big it was, grew into something a more pronounced. And he considered this _small_?

Stepping back over, Blasto gathered up the shed pieces of the sac and helped peel off portions that were still attached in places. Watching him, though, as the negative spaces began filling out, proved enough of a distraction as I put together why he'd cut the sac the way he had.

"It's a costume?"

"More like armor, actually. ." He pointed to the sections of the sac that were still snug and tight against the Orkan's scales. Now with much of the excess gone, it looked like it had elbow length fingerless gloves, long tabi socks, and something akin to a wrestling singlet except with a neck. Maximum coverage while leaving the joints free so as to be functional and nonrestrictive… It— He'd doodled out the design in just a few short minutes and it was better than most costumes offered to the Wards, myself included…

"Greaves and vambraces on the limbs for blocking, a high collar to protect the neck, and a singlet for the torso. By itself, this stuff can stop a 38. flat. And that's without adding more layers or riveting on armor."

And it was better protecting to boot. A muscle above my eye twitched and I think… I think I just died a little inside.

I stepped closer to get a better look. "Really? But what about blades? You were able to cut through it just fine with the scalpel."

"Yeah…" Blasto waggled his hand, "That's where it's a bit weak. You'd be surprised, though. The sac is like…" He stopped the think a moment, "When it dries out it's like if you crossed leather with kevlar due to the lignin and the veins that carry all the blood and oxygen and such. Really durable. Doesn't tear easily and absorbs impacts no problem. It's what I made my coat and the satchels out of."

Standing, he crossed the room again, grabbed his own aforementioned satchel, and stuffed some of the larger pieces of the sac in before tossing some smaller bits at Gumbo's head. I looked at the pieces for a moment, and my stomach flopped as the lizard raised his head and started nipping them up.

"But," I prompted. "What's the catch?"

"Like you said. I could cut it. It can absorb and disperse kinetic energy no problem, but a sharp knife will just go right through. I could grow the sac a certain way so that that isn't an issue—induce excess lignin growth or something. For a byproduct, though, that's a bit more work than I'm willing to do. I'll probably add to it once we settle down, but for now, it'll work just fine as a bit of basic protection."

"And it's better than nothing," I mused and turned my attention back outside.

"And it's better than nothing," he agreed.

Holding my weapon to my stomach, I reached to my chest and felt the strap of my satchel as I scanned the courtyard. A bit thick, but light and pliable and. My eyebrows raised a bit as I rubbed it between my fingers, actually _feeling_ it since he'd given it to me. Soft, _very_ soft, almost like calf skin. "You said it was a byproduct, you didn't design it like this?"

He chuckled and out of the corner of my eye I saw a few more bits get thrown to Gumbo. "Just a happy coincidence to be honest," he admitted. "A while back I just recycled it for biomass or feedstock, then I made some tweaks and the third generation ended up like this. Took me a bit to figure it out, but I guess one of the things I added in made it produce a bit of tannin. Not much, barely enough for it to work, really. But, if you work it a bit after it dries, it'll soften right up."

"Huh."

"Oh, and I'll make some stuff out of it for you if you want. Though, it may be a bit rough, at least until I can make some cord or sinew."

I blinked in surprise and smiled after a moment. Blasto had reminded me that my clothes were _still_ damp after I'd just about managed to almost forget about it, but the thought was nice. "I appreciate tha…" The thanks died in my throat as I turned to him and saw just how much more of the Orkan was now exposed… and what it looked like.

Blasto looked up from where he was kneeling on the other side of the Orkan, the pneumatic injector in hand and his expression one of concern that quickly shifted. His teeth, bright against his pale face, gleamed as his lips spread in an all too satisfied grin. "There we go, there's the reaction I was expecting."

Spreading his arms, he conducted himself like a salesman presenting a car, and I unconsciously tracked his hands as he gestured and indicated at certain parts of his creation.

"Was it the eyes," he began, drawing my attention first to the now exposed head face where _two_ sets of eyes rested beneath a slight ridge that protruded out from a slightly elongated skull.

He moved down, and I tracked his hand as it drifted down to the mouth. The _slightly_ too wide, thin-lipped mouth that had parted a bit to expose a number of narrow incisors where a human's canines may have been. Teeth that looked perfect for ripping and tearing and not letting go of something once they'd latched on.

Then there was the second, much smaller and almost vestigial, set of arms protruding out from its sides. Right where the humans sixth through eighth ribs would have been. "The pedipalps?"

Leaning back, he spread his hands wide to gesture at the Orkan as a whole. "Or perhaps, all of the above."

As he gestured, I took in its near bodybuilder-class physique and instinctively assessed it as I would an enemy Brute while looking for weaknesses and a combat strategy.

Eyes that likely gave it better range of vision; Teeth that could be used to rip flesh from bone; Arms thick enough to make weight lifters blush; Legs thick enough to kick through a small tree, but at the same time be nimble and allow for quick movement; Fingers that, while there were only three, were thick and robust looking on its upper arms and tipped with short but thick talons…

He'd called it a hurricane for a reason, and looking at it now I immediately removed discounted close range engagement as a viable option.

What had I been expecting, though? Quite frankly, I hadn't actually known what I was expecting. I hadn't even considered it really— A gorilla or something big and strong. A brute. 'Muscle'. But… this? This was something more than that. This was something that looked like it could not only wrestle a grizzly bear, win, and then go on it's way without a how-do-you-do, but something that could _track down_ the bear before going in for the kill.?

Chuckling, he touched and fiddled with the pneumatic injector as he grinned up at me. "Well, what do you think?."

I was still having a little trouble getting over that this thing looked hyper-lethal as it was and that he'd called it _small._ "What I think is that someone over at the Think Tank made a mistake with your threat assessment."

He laughed and if possible his smile got even wider. "You know, I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"I also think we're going to have to have a talk about just what you can do so we can plan things out properly."

The grin faltered a bit, becoming a simple—if smug—smile as he shrugged, "I expected that." He raised the pneumatic injector and his eyebrows, "But in the meantime, it's time to wake sleeping beauty from her slumber."

He pressed the injector up under the elbow of the lower left arm and pulled the trigger.


	8. 123

Critical Mass

(Worm/Fallout)

1.2.3

—

I stepped out from the corner, my rifle up and at the ready as I aimed down the iron sights and swept the length of the dusty, dimly lit hallway. Slowly, cautiously, I panned the barrel of my weapon back and forth— over filing cabinets standing alone or fallen on the floor, across small tables stationed near the doors leading into the classrooms lining the hall… nothing. It was empty. But it didn't _feel_ that way.

My wrists itched. I didn't know _what_ had me on edge, but not long after we'd hit a bust on the first few room's Blasto and I had gone through, there was a continuous sense that something was… off. I'd been somewhat expecting to encounter more of the green skinned mutants, or maybe other people scavenging for something, but— I snapped my rifle up and to the end of the hall as something interrupted the light coming in through a non-boarded up window... I blinked. It was nothing, and that was the problem.

"My offer still stands you know." Blasto singsonged, floor creaking as he stepped up behind me and I stepped aside to let him walk past with the looming Orkan, his hard case swinging as he loped along.

I just rolled my eyes and followed as he made for the first door in the hall. "For the last time, I'm not smoking with you."

"You're too high strung, though. You're getting paranoid. One hit isn't—"

"No is no, not even to 'take the edge off'," I interjected. "Besides, if you think I'm being paranoid then why do you have your revolver out," I shot back.

"Because there's being paranoid, and then there's being prepared." He looked back at me from the corner of his eye and shrugged, "Well, that and because I don't want to be the idiot without a gun when head crabs start pouring from the vents."

I lowered my rifle and trailed after the Tinker. "You're sure Gumbo or Eta haven't picked up anything, though?"

Blasto shook his head. "No, and you _need_ to relax. Abandoned places naturally creep people out but it's all just psychosomatic bullshit, nothing to work yourself up over."

My lips pursed, "It's not nothing."

"...Maybe," he acquiesced. "But you're jumping at shadows and it's stressing Gumbo."

Slowing, I glanced back as Blasto and Eta advanced down the hall to see the giant lizard shuffle, the saddle buckles clinking and sacks we'd fashioned from some tattered curtains swaying a little as it looked about. He'd been reduced to a pack mule, but he was still alert as he shifted from foot to foot and his tongue flicked out to expose his sharp teeth as he tasted the air.

I turned back as Blasto reached the first door in the hall. He tried the doorknob, and when it twisted he pushed it in, stepped aside, and gestured into the room beyond. "Eta: Sweep and Clear."

"I mean, I get it," he continued, absently—and irresponsibly—tapping his revolver against his thigh as his creation stalked into the room and he leaned back against a boarded up window. "The spooky abandoned building is spooky, but newsflash, that's _natural_." A muted, syllabant growl from the room drew his attention before he looked back. "And as creepy as this place is, it doesn't have _jack_ on the tunnels back home. No comparison," and with that, he pushed off and entered the room.

I lingered in the hall as the sounds of him moving about in the room filtered out, alternating between drumming my fingers against the grip and guard. Was I being overly cautious— or paranoid, as Blasto would put it? Maybe, but my itching wrists told me otherwise.

The floor creaked, a weight pressed softly against my hip, and Gumbo let out a soft warble. Such a caring lizard thing you are. Sighing, I reached down to briefly scritch between Gumbo's eyes and scanned the hallway one more time before following after Blasto.

I found him at the front of the room, pulling open the drawers of what had no doubt once been a professor's desk. "So why're the tunnels back home worse? Other capes?"

He snorted and glanced up to catch my eye. "The rats." Dropping a thin sheaf of papers on the desk he knelt down out of sight. "Fuckers were _everywhere_."

Turning away to hide my smile I drifted in among the chair-desks where the students would have sat, eyes on the floor looking for pencils and such.

"That's the thing about this place, though," he continued, his voice carrying from the front of the room, "see, I haven't seen a single one the entire time we've been here." Looking back, I saw him looking at me from behind the desk and he gestured to the building. "Not one. Haven't heard 'em either, and I like to think I have a pretty good ear for that."

None? It hadn't been something I'd thought to pay attention to, but thinking back… no, none, and in a place like an abandoned building, there should be noticeable signs of pest activity. And thinking about it, there hadn't been much in the way of other pests either. Or anything, really. There'd been nothing.

I told him what I'd remembered and watched as Blasto's expression soured. "But… what could have caused something like that? And if there are no pests, what's that mean for everything else?"

He hesitated a moment before licking his lips and shaking his head. "I have a few ideas, and I'd rather not jump to conclusions, but... it's nothing good," and ducking out of sight he tossed up a discolored bundle of paper, then I heard a rattling _thunk_ and he popped up again. "Got another locked one."

I nodded, and making my way back to the front of the room stepped behind the desk. Blasto tapped the bottom right-hand filing drawer then shuffled out of the way.

My weapon blurred between shapes: tire iron, flathead screwdriver, crowbar, claw hammer and a dozen other utilitarian forms that could double as deadly implement before settling on an electric-blue pry bar. Little more than a folded length of metal, but strong and with a weighted end.

Kneeling, I jammed the bent end into the gap at the top of the drawer and pulled up to lever the bent end down once, twice— " _Crack._ " I readjusted, pulled one more time, and wood gave way with the leftover force of the pull pushing the drawer out to reveal… a silver flask.

Blasto gasped and snatched up the flask, holding it high with mouth agape and eyes wide. "Yes, _yes!_ Now, we shall go out and conquer the world, with this _flask_."

Lips twitching, I gave him room as he stood. "A bit much?"

"Maybe a bit." Tapping the flask against the desk he moved to the other side. "But this is starting to get annoying. There's been nothing. _Noth~ing._ Nothing but old papers— most of which faded and useless, or booze." Unscrewing the metal cap he sniffed at the opening and resealed it with a grimace, "And with this room all way have is an empty flask, some chalk, and a useless newspaper."

"Useless newspaper?" Maybe something about how things came to be as they were?

"Yeah." Picking up the discolored bundle Blasto unrolled it across the desk to show the front page. But, rather than headlines of economic chaos, public anarchy or war, the print was just _barely_ there; and even then it was little more than smudges on the yellowed paper. No doubt the results of acid in the paper. "But like I said: Nothing."

Shaking his head, he gathered everything into his satchel and gestured for the Orkan to go out ahead. Crossing back to the door though, he spun to face me and walked backward. "You know, I was trying to be optimistic before, but I have this nagging feeling that it's going to be like that in the next room as well."

True to his prediction, as we made our way down the hall each successive room yielded more or less the same bounty: some usable paper that we added to Gumbo's load, a few more pencils, a clipboard and a sealed bottle of scotch— the last I actually had needed to forcibly take from Blasto with how he had looked at it. I couldn't really blame him, though. Two hall's, eight classrooms, three locked drawers, and all we'd found were scraps and nothing of substance or value.

So, needless to say, as we came approached the end of the hall with the last door next to the non-boarded up window, I was pleasantly surprised when my eyes were drawn to a small plaque at eye level: A-2 Records.

It didn't hold my attention for long, though, and I stepped up to the corner to peek down the connecting hall that ran right to the door. Again, my eyes danced across every surface, from shadow to shadow, and between the slivers of light let in through the boarded up windows all the way to a shadowed area at the end of the hall. If someone had a shot lined up... well, the door could be a kill zone and the only warning would be the first shot.

I didn't like it. And my wrists were itching again, not as if they'd actually stopped though.

"So, hey, correct me if I'm wrong, but these look an _awful_ lot like bullet holes."

Glancing back, I saw Blasto touching the edge of a ragged, outward splintered hole in the door a few feet up from the bottom. One of a loose grouping of twelve such pockmarks in fact. Well… that didn't exactly bode well. With the splintering, through, whoever had been shooting had shot from _within_ the room, not without.

Changing my weapon to something with a bit more range, I glanced down to decouple the scope and got a look at the floor in the process— Or more specifically, the slightly darker section of ratty blue carpet that my right foot was on. My eyes traced the border before coming back around to my foot; an irregular ovoid. The shape of the discoloration was barely visible, but it was there. A blood stain— No, a _large_ blood stain, easily large enough for someone to have bled out.

Whoever had left it was long dead and gone, but that someone had been shooting through the door from inside… maybe there was something in there, or someone had simply been taking shelter inside from an assailant? There could be any number of reasons for someone to be shooting through a door at someone, many of them… indicating nothing good, but it was something new and right now that's what we needed.

"See if it's unlocked, but try and stay out of sight."

Nodding his assent, Blasto moved to stand to the right of the door— out of sight of anyone that might be down the hall —and tried the handle. It turned and he glanced over to me, but pushing it in the door only opened an inch before hitting something with a metallic. A second attempt only resulted in a louder clang.

So then, someone shooting that had barricaded themselves in?

Blasto raised both eyebrows he nodded to the door.

"Go ahead."

Clicking his tongue, Blasto moved away and pointed at the door. "Eta: Break it down."

The floor creaked as it stepped up, and shifting sideways lunged at the wood door to ram its upper shoulder into center panel. Hitting the obstruction with a loud " _Bang!"_ , the door obstruction slid a few inches and the Orkan leaned back again for another go before pausing. Only for a moment, though. Ramming into it again, the creature then braced all four hands against the panels and digging its feet into the carpet proceeded to slowly _push_ the door open… I discreetly glanced at Blasto. Quick thinking for something that's _supposed_ to only be at the level of a primate.

The progress was slow, but the gap between the door and the frame steadily widened with each step the Orkan took; the obstruction softly sliding over the carpet a backdrop to the quiet grunts of exertion from the Orkan and the somewhat disconcerting creaking from the floor beneath its feet.

As the gap widened to a bit over a foot and half, it stopped, and repositioning its hands it shifted its stance— the Orkan spun, one of its big hands grabbed me by the bicep and very nearly pulled me off my feet as it forced me behind it. Growling— a deep, rattling sound —the Orkan raised its head and breathed deep. Over its shoulder, I saw the scaled lips shiver and part slightly to reveal a sliver of pearlescent teeth as my weapon shifted into a shotgun, a sub machine gun, and a high caliber pistol before settling on a short barreled rifle with foregrip and holographic sight.

"Rey?"

"I don't know," he said, voice surprisingly calm and I heard the hammer of his revolver creak back from behind the wall of muscle. "She must've smelled something. Couldn't say what, but only a direct scent would be enough to set her off like that."

My wrist itched, and holding my rifle at the low-ready I leaned out from the cover of the Orkan's bulk to again look down the hall, but… nothing. I kept looking, though, and the Orkan kept scenting the air before eventually relaxing its guard and giving me some space. But it didn't _really_ relax, at least not fully; as it stepped away and stared down the hall, it's secondary hands flexed as if it were grabbing for something.

I looked to Blasto and he met my look with an awkward smile. "False alarm?"

It sure didn't feel like a false alarm to me. "You really think that?"

Shaking his head, he eased the hammer forward and pocketed the revolver. "Not really, no. Eta's senses are… Well, let's just say you wouldn't want her after you. Just standing out here isn't going to do us any good though, so… well, you know." He jerked his head at the wall and I nodded.

Stepping back, I slipped through the door, turned, and brought my weapon up in one smooth motion. It flickered and shimmered green as I took in the brightly lit, one window room I'd found myself in. Ten tall, four drawer metal filing cabinets dominated the center of the room and obstructed much of my vision, but… Side stepping, I circled around the cabinets until I came back around the other side and discovered what had been barricading the door: a toppled filing cabinet, with the tattered rag bound, loosely piled, sun bleached skeletal remains of the one who'd put it there loosely piled against the metal and a bulky pistol with its slide racked back.

"It's safe," I called out and shifted my weapon into the Pistol and hefted it. A bit weighty, and bulky to the point of dwarfing my hand slightly, and forward heavy, but— ejecting the magazine I thumbed out a round to see it used 10mm —that would almost certainly help reduce the recoil to something manageable that most anyone could handle. I absently racked the slide and felt the weight, the feel and handling of the controls, and… wasn't that bad.

"Ok, ok, ok. Now _this_ is what I'm talking about."

Glancing up from my examination, I spied Blasto edging into the room with the hard case in hand before hooking the pistol's trigger guard on my middle finger, and with a half spin, it became a knife that I rammed home into my belt sheath.

Fully entering the room it took Blasto all of a moment to see the skeletal remains at my feet and his eyes practically lit up as he jabbed a finger at the bones. "No! Screw the records, that's _way_ better."

Before I knew what was happening, he'd circled around the filing cabinets and was pushing me aside with little more than a how-do-you-do. "C'mon C'mon, I need room so move over a bit." Recognizing the look in his eye, I withheld an exasperated sigh and stepped away from the bones.

Tinkers, no matter the situation, beware if you're in the way of whatever catches their attention.

Crouching next to the remains he pulled out a pencil, poked through the bones, examined the rib cage, and poking at the sternum before pushing aside tattered bits of clothing to look at the pelvis. "Male," he announced, tapping part of the hip bone, "middle aged and suffering from long term malnutrition. Also…" He moved the bones a bit more and nodded. "He was sick." Tapping the pencil against some rough patches on more than a few of the bones he shook his head, "Some kind of bone disease from the looks of it. Cancer, I think."

He shuffled back and before I even realized what he was doing, he'd put his heel over a tibia and pressed down. But before it actually touched, he lifted up and looking back to me. "Uh… you don't mind if I check something do you?"

The idea of him desecrating the remains instantly put a foul taste in my mouth. But if we could gain something from it… Closing my eyes and sighing, I nodded my assent to another item in a long line of things I'd no doubt have to become accustomed to. A few seconds later I heard a muffled crack and opened my eyes to see Blasto nodding as he sifted through the fragments.

"Definitely bone cancer. Early stage and it would have been treatable, but there are none of the usual signs and…" Trailing off, Blasto leaned in and poked at a fragment. "He was suffering from Osteoporosis, and a bad case of it at that— though with the long term malnutrition, that's almost to be expected."

Two issues easily treatable in a first world society? But with both gone unaddressed… "Your assessment?"

"Well, whatever went down here, it's been at least forty years since then." He waved a hand at the bones, "Long enough for this poor bastard to grow up in the conditions that came out of it, then tack on say... ten years for this level of decomp? With that, we're looking at fifty years at the low end since things went to shit here."

Longer than parahumans had been around, longer than it took many governments to rise, and easily long enough for entire civilizations to fall. "What I gathered as well, and you're sure about the malnutrition?"

"Well, the osteoporosis could be linked to the cancer, but yeah, pretty sure. Why?"

"Food," I said simply, becoming a little more conscious of my own hunger.

Blasto glanced back over his shoulder at me, then to his hard case before looking back down to the bones. "Oh."

The room was quiet for a few long moments as that sank in until Blasto shook his head. He glanced at his watch before looking back again. "Whatever the local time is, I've got 10:28 and as much as I was holding out hope we haven't found any of the utility tunnel entrances since we started. So… I figure we see what we go to eleven then head out to that barge and I'll see what I can cobble together. How's that sound to you?"

My stomach squirmed a little, but I put it out of mind and nodded. "Good enough, and I have something that can boil water so that won't be a problem if you need it."

"Right." Shuffling aside, he grabbed the pistol, dropped the slide after fiddling with it a moment and racking it back several times with only a little difficulty before ejecting the magazine and ramming it home again. "Well, hey, the gun seems to have held up fairly well. So at least we'll be leaving with _that_." It was only a little bitter. Dropping the gun into his satchel, he gathered up a number of spent brass cartridges from among the bones before standing and circled back around to the other side of the cabinets.

We started our search with the top drawer of the first cabinet on our sides, the cabinets closest to the door.

A drawer rattled open on his side as I worked the jammed tab lock on mine. "Ok, a little on the empty side but… ah, here we go."

Pulling open my own drawer, I found its contents a little sparse as well and pulled a file only to discover it was just a memo about needing more printer paper.

"Well, looks like this stuff was printed with a bit better quality ink," Blasto noted. "Definitely not archival quality, but something suited for mid-term record keeping from the looks of it. Seems to have held up well enough, but… everything I've got it dated 2065?"

2065? I hunted down the date in the papers header. The numbers had faded a bit, but were legible enough. There was a seven as the third digit. "And I've got 2072."

I swapped the file for a new one only to find the same thing. The next three files were the year and replacing the last file I'd pulled I opened a new drawer, but as Blasto leaned against the cabinets and slowly paged through a sheaf of loose, discolored papers I paused. "So…" Lowering the sheaf he spent a few moments staring off into space. "What, you suppose this is a future Earth?"

I didn't want to say yes, but I just didn't know and I couldn't say no either. What little I did know about parallel realities aside from Aleph, though… Well, Armsmaster _had_ talked a bit about Haywires work in the aftermath of the attack on Madison. Although, venting or rambling might have been more accurate, and the coherency of the subjects brought up had been scattershot at best. Really, he'd just been talking as he couldn't tinker at the time, thanks to Master/Stranger protocols being in effect. Of the topics he'd mentioned though, there was one relevant point that now stood out: Divergent Timelines and Dating Systems. "It could be, but it could also be something simpler than that. Something like a different dating system would explain it."

"Huh, I guess that makes sense." Haven't seen any computers yet and major proliferation didn't start happening till later so I guess these may have actually been filed in the _nineteen_ sixties our time. Still, something wonky is going on here, even if that's the case." Shrugging it off though, Blasto went back to searching.

Yeah, different calendar origination date, that had been at least _one_ of the possible concepts involved with parallel realities that he'd mentioned. Of course, this Earth _could_ be sixty years ahead— Well, more like a hundred if Blasto's assessment was correct. Or it could be something else entirely, but the theoretical physics involved at that point… By then I'd lost track of what Armsmaster had been saying after just a few words. So better to just think it's a difference in calendars for the time being.

Regardless, the date difference detail was set aside and we kept combing through the cabinets. But between ink degradation, other damage and discovering that some drawers had up to 90% of their files missing… it wasn't much, but I was at least enough to notice a trend as I got to the cabinet furthest down.

"I think I've got something," I announced.

After pulling out and replacing files for the last ten minutes and finding little information, I'd begun paying little attention to the content but rather the date. "2077, 2077, 2077… it's all 2077, that's the last year the records were being kept." Crouching down I pulled open the bottom drawer and grabbing the first and last file I checked which was last. "Here we go, last thing that was filed. It's…" I squinted at the title page, trying to read barely there print and straining my eyes before turning to hold it up to the light coming in from the window. "October 22nd. Something about a General begin satisfied with the results of a demonstration regarding…" I tried to decipher the numbers and electrical jargon, but one line that stood out to me was 'payload yield'. "Something about a weapon of some kind."

Blasto came around to my side of the cabinets as I turned back. "So we've got the end point. Work backward and see what we find?"

"Yeah."

With him pulling out the second to last drawer, he moved aside as we began combing through the files for useful information. Many of the files were useless, and in fact almost the entire drawer didn't have any more information so I moved on to the second drawer while Blasto worked through the third. Fortunately, he was having a bit more luck.

"I've got a memo about some sort of disease and a… Oh. Well… fuck. I might have a clue about how this place went to shit. Apparently, there was a national quarantine in effect, and something about a 'Blue Flu' and—"

"— _ove it, no nose_!" A voice. Faint, almost too faint to make out, but someone speaking and not the slow, stunted speech of the mutants either.

"Rey."

"Holy hell this thing was a piece of work. They were practically frantic to find a solution. And here, another one, says three professors were lost over the weekend and—"

"Rey!" I snapped. "Be quiet for a moment." He went quiet, he didn't even breathe, and closing my eyes I listened as everything faded away and—

"— _tcha think yer a fighter huh_ — _gonna have all sort_ — _fun with you, I can just tell_ _."_ Intermittent, but clear enough to make out and...

Turning on my heel I stepped over to the window and looked out to a street beyond. The glass was dusty though, and polishing it with my sleeve helped a little, but the outside was heavy with water spots. Despite that though, I made out three figures; one pushing another forward with the other pointing something large at the one being pushed. Gang members and a captive? Guards and a criminal? I had no way of knowing (though I was leaning toward gang members), but seeing them go around the corner of a tall building I now knew where to look for some locals. I now knew where to get some first-hand information rather than digging for scraps.

"What is it?"

"Humies," I told him, my weapon jumping into my hand and taking the form of a heavy black crowbar as I stepped back from the window.


	9. 124

Critical Mass (Fallout/Worm) #2.4 (5.0) 1.2.4

—

"I still think this is a bad idea."

I sighed in exasperation and pressed my forehead against the rusty door panel of the gutted landship we'd taken cover behind— some oversized amalgamation of a V.W. bus mixed with the Jetsons. I could all but _feel_ my blood pressure rising.

It had been almost like pulling teeth to convince him to leave the University, but... I couldn't really blame him. His reluctance _was_ understandable; he didn't want to stick his neck out for a stranger and he wasn't the same kind of Tinker that Colin was, his specialization didn't exactly lend itself to him going out into the field. His creations, _yes_ , but him… I still hadn't seen enough to make a firm judgement on that, but it seemed somewhat less so. He had answered the call to help fight Leviathan, yes, but his part had been to help with search and rescue. Not that he seemed entirely apathetic, just more interested in looking out for himself and needing to be prodded in the right direction to step outside his comfort zone.

Although, that said, being careful not to prod to hard was definitely one culprit for my rising blood pressure.

"I _know_ ," I only barely refrained from snapping at him. "Believe me, I know, but we don't really have much of a choice now do we? We don't even _know_ what we need to know!"

"And I disagree. Off the top of my head we could go out to the barge and ignore this, we could go into the city and find some abandoned high rise— or hell, we could go find out who had the lights on last night. We could go do a dozen other things that don't involve us charging into someone's hideout blind."

"So you would just leave them then?"

"Yeah, I would. It blows, but what happens to people here though doesn't concern us. You want to know how I've kept myself from independent of the other gangs? By not sticking my nose into other people's business."

Setting aside that he wouldn't help someone in need… Not taking my forehead off the cool metal, I turned just enough to eye Blasto where he, Gumbo and Eta were sitting beside where the cargo portion of the van would have been. "Keeping your nose out of other people's business?"

"Yeah."

"Is that what you call your rivalry with Accord?"

Blasto glowered at me. "One, Accord started that shit and can go fuck himself with the horse he rode in on. Two, fuck you you're ignoring the point I'm trying to make. You want to go rescue someone and keep being a star-spangled-hero, ok, that's cool. In another other situation I'd say good for you and send you along with some backup, but this…" Grimacing, he sucked air in between clenched teeth and shook his head, For all we know the person you saw stole something, or killed someone. They could have done one of a hundred other things that you would find 'villainous'. If we do this, we'll be taking a side in what might be full blown gang war with no idea who we're siding with or attacking. It's unnecessary!"

He wasn't exactly wrong… Turning away, I raised my head just enough to peer over the lip of the door and through the cab's bare interior to a pair of blue painted doors at the back doors of the into the hospital Gumbo had tracked the two people and their prisoner to. Unfortunately, those doors— steel, going by the brown spots where the paint had peeled away and rusted in places —were also the only way in as far as we'd been able to tell before Gumbo caught the scent and led us here. Everything else had been locked up tight or boarded over. In a few too many places it was both.

My eyes scanned over piles of debris and trash that littered the area leading up to the doors, scouring them for anything that looked like it might be a trap or alarm; anything that might give us away if we approached the doors. But really, all I was doing was delaying.

I sighed, turned to lean back against the door panel, balancing on my toes as I stared through the rain slats and into dark depths of the parking garage beside the hospital.

"You're right," I conceded, and looked to Blasto. "But that doesn't matter."

The Tinker looked up sharply at that, his eyes narrowing but he didn't comment as I held up a hand. "It doesn't matter because we simply don't know enough to make our way without inevitably stepping on someone's toes. We know nothing, but we need food and water, we need a safe place to stay where we can recuperate and plan out our next steps. If we just go out into the world… well we're just as likely to make enemies than not. So, you're right, involving ourselves and risking the chance that we end up making enemies is a bad idea— It's a _terrible idea_ , and believe me when I say that in most other situations I would object just as strenuously. It's a bad situation all around, but at least this way we're making contact on _our_ terms. And if we're going to make it here for who knows how long, then we need intel on how to navigate the local situation and an opportunity has presented itself."

Blasto grunted and ran a hand back through his hair as he looked down the stare at the ground, quiet in his moment of rumination. "... There's no way this isn't going to come back and bite us in the ass one way or another. You know that right?

"Of course," I answered, ignoring his snort at the blunt honesty. "But terrible idea or no, you are still going to help me do it, aren't you?"

Looking up, he held my gaze but wavered after a few moments and breaking eye contact he looked past me. After a few moments more he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. So, what, we go in, shoot anyone that gets in the way and rescue whoever's being held?"

My lips pursed into a thin line at his immediate leap to violence. Unless the record I'd seen had been out of date— which wasn't out of the question —the PRT had only had one possible count of second degree murder on record for Blasto despite him being active for several years by that point. But going to the lethal option that quickly… I chalked it up the situation and shook my head.

"No, not exactly. We keep out of sight, don't die, only fire if you're fired upon."

"Great, same plan we had for the mutants then?" I didn't miss the derisiveness in his words, but I ignored it.

"That's right, I'll take point with non-lethals and put down anyone we encounter."

"Sure that's smart? Not to be a debbie-downer, but I'd be will to bet they won't be as cautious. They'll be using real ammunition."

"And you said it yourself, we don't know who's who," I countered. "We can't afford to be making enemies this early on. So again, non-lethals. We're still attacking them, but at least going this way we won't be doing anything permanent, it may help if we have to deal with them later on."

Blasto slowly ran the hand down his face and stared at me, "So don't take this the wrong way, but while I _get_ you're a white hat and all with killing being a measure of last resort, that's straight up _retarded_. Like, seriously retarded. I mean it would be one thing if I had my mushroom-men, that way we could just swarm them en-masse— or even if you just had some decent body armor. But instead we only have ourselves and Gumbo and Eta. We don't exactly have the luxury of going easy. I can understand that this is you not wanting to kill, but if you really want to do this it's pretty much going to be them or us with no in between. From what I've seen of your power you can basically make anything that could tangentially be considered to be a weapon, right?"

I tilted my head, "More or less."

"Right. So you can make rifles, shotguns, pistols, knives and rocket launchers— _Rocket. Launchers_ ," he stressed. "Your power can make things like that, and instead of blitzing their asses with shock and awe you want to use rubber bullets and shit against who know's how many people. People who— if the little war going on all last night was _any_ indication —would probably have _zero_ reason to not unload on us the moment we trip up. I'm not missing anything, right?"

"No, that's about it, but…" I mulled over what I was going to say, how to frame it… "How difficult would you say it is to kill someone?"

He was taken aback at the non-sequitur but mulled it over a bit before shaking his head. "If this is supposed to be some lesson you're gonna need to elaborate a bit more."

Summoning my weapon from its sheath, I looked down and turned over the flat black submachine gun it had become. It blurred green, the gun itself staying the same, but the ammunition in the stick magazine going from being loaded with twenty five rounds of 45 ACP, to a plastic-rubber composite. One, capable of reducing someone to little more than raw meat. The other, a bruised but still breathing wreck.

Once, after a particularly difficult patrol during the early days of my time in the Wards, Alexandria had taken me aside and during the following talk had compared my power to that of Legend's; as being capable of having a spectrum of effects. And how, with the right equipment, I could tailor my weapon to fit the situation as Legend could tailor the effect of his lasers.

It worked. It had taken weeks of lengthy discussions with local PRT's Armourer and months more with the teams themselves to get a grasp on situational awareness and tactics, but it had worked.

However the result of using guns to fight was predictable. Simply by its nature, my power had an inherent perception of lethality attached to it, and by the time I'd graduated to the Protectorate the term 'Child Soldier' had been thrown around too many times by too many people who didn't know the meaning for me to recall in a single sitting. Every time I went out on a patrol, there was a chance I would be forced to end someone's life, but very rarely had that actually happened.

I could kill at any time, but I didn't, and the people I'd fought had known that; I'd certainly brought in enough of them that they'd have to be blind to not notice the difference between my using an explosive against a brute vs. a beanbag for a non-brute. They'd known that— as with Legend —I could be lethal if I _wanted_ to, if they pushed just far enough and forced me to lower myself to their level.

They'd known that I had the capability, and anyone who'd fought beside me against the Endbringers knew I _more_ than had the capability.

Without entirely noticing it I'd eventually earned a reputation, originating at some point during my time as a Ward until it began bearing fruit during my tenure as a full member of the protectorate. It had even been documented: Statistically, when I'd been visibly patrolling, there was a marked drop in crime or Villainous Parahuman activity. Compared to the prospect of running into Armsmaster, Dauntless, or Assault and Battery, the gang toughs had known there was a chance— not matter how small —that the next bullet I fired would end their life, but that I had the restraint not to.

Ultimately though, it was a reputation based largely on a baseless fear because I controlled myself, moderation, but one that had gained a bit of substance as the years went by.

"How easy do you think it is to kill someone?" I repeated and looked up from my weapon, but seeing the confusion on his face I elaborated further. "Whether in the heat of combat or defending yourself, you can shoot someone and that's all it takes: Bang, they're dead, _gone_. The actual act requiring less effort than getting up in the morning or driving to work. Anyone can do it, a child can do it." And children did do it.

I managed to keep my expression neutral, my eyes fixed on Blasto even as my weapon shifted into a small pistol.

"Killing someone… is _easy_ ," I continued, recalling faces from the past as I said those words, far more than I was entirely comfortable with but all had crossed one line or another. "And choosing to do so when other options are available is short sighted in comparison to what could be gained otherwise. It's _cheap_."

Blasto sat back, chewing his lip a bit before crossing his arms. "You're thinking more long term then." He glanced to the side of the van, _through_ the van, then back. "You want this to be our debut."

"In a sense. It's also something to send a message. From what I've seen, people in disaster zones rarely ever place much value on the life of strangers over what they need to survive— or simply over what they _want_. They're more focused on expedience and the easiest path in front of them. So then, consider how it might look to those people when someone comes along and attacks them, only instead of using lethal force they take them alive? What do you suppose someone might think about these attackers?"

It took a moment, but I could see it in his eyes the moment it clicked.

"They'd think these mysterious attackers have the resources available that they can afford to not kill."

Statement, not question. I nodded to confirm but otherwise didn't interrupt.

"I see… however thats not taking into account what _else_ they might think. Sure, we take them down without killing, but because of that they might take it as a sign of weakness. They could try and take advantage of what could be seen as a reluctance to use lethal force by taking hostages or using human shields. _Or_ , we could be painting a target on our backs by making them think we're worth going after for our stuff. I mean, problems aside it's sound, but you do know for this to work an example _will_ need to be made— or more likely, _examples_ ," he added, drawing out the consonant. "Taking people down without without bloodshed is nice and all, but eventually you'll need to put yer money where your mouth is."

"And?" I asked, but Blasto only stared at me as if mulling the entire conversation over his head.

Eventually he shrugged. "Nothing, just not the sort of thing I ever expected to from a white hat is all. I mean, you know, it's one thing for to imply it, but it's another for you to actually _say it_. Usually I only hear that sorta thing from Hero 'capes from outside the 'states."

"Well, I don't like it, but sometimes we have to choose between what is hard and what is easy, and as much as I hate it sometimes there's _only_ the easy way." Again, faces from the past resurfaced, flashing by one after another. Many, _too many_ , people that had had lives but been forgotten, rendered down to footnotes in reports and ashes with no one to claim them… But I remembered.

"You know, I think I liked it better when you were being condescending." I started, blinking owlishly as Blasto sighed and shook his head. "Like… please don't quote Dumbledore to me. Just… just don't."

Then it occurred to me who exactly I had just plagiarized and snorted. "Ok, but no promises."

Despite his reluctance, Blasto took off his hardcase and lashed it to Gumbos saddle before drawing the pneumatic injector from an inside pocket and fiddled with the vial. Detaching it, he put it between his teeth and pulled out his little travel bag. Juggling the gun and the bag, he tried digging through the bag with the same hand holding the injector.

Needless to say I took it off his hands before he dropped it.

"'Anksh. 'Sho, 'ow are 'ee gonna 'oo 'dis," he asked around the vial.

With an absent thought my weapon flickered and stretched, growing into the M32 and I rested the revolving grenade launcher across my legs. Blasto's eyebrow's rose as he glanced up from digging deep into the bag. Extricating a new vial Blasto, was spat the previous one into the bag and pocketed the bit of kit. "I was only joking about the rocket launcher, you know." Then gesturing for the injector I handed it back.

"I know," I said, watching him fit the new vial into the gun. "Though on that point, if the condition of the University was any indication I probably wouldn't've been able to even if I wanted and in contrast we should have an easier time using non-lethals than we would otherwise."

Thumbing the catch, I twisted the grips and with a sharp jerk the barrel and cylinder assembly snapped out on a pivot. I pulled out one of conical shells, the weapon flickering green as I held up the 40mm grenade for Blasto to see. "Flashbangs. They aren't perfect, and I may not be able to use them everywhere since they can start fires, but they'll take down a room and for everything else I'll be using rubber slugs." I nodded at the injector. "Is that stuff safe?" I was already asking much of him and didn't bother to ask the specifics, though, in all likelihood I wouldn't want to know anyway.

"Yeah, too much and it can be lethal but just a smidge and it'll put someone out for a day or so." Absently waggling the gun he eyed the vial and his expression turned serious, "I don't have more of this you know. Once it's gone, it's gone. Until I get a lab setup you'll be on your own with keeping people down and even then it will be a bit— build the tools to build the tools and all that. Also, you know I don't have ear protection, right? As it is they're still ringing a little from last night."

Dropping the shell back into the cylinder I snapped it shut and shrugged. "Not much I can do about that. Just keep a wall between you and me and you'll be fine."

"...Right." Pocketing the injector he drew in a long breath through his nose, fortifying himself, then let it out. "Time to go be big stupid heroes I guess."

—

Anyhoo... Yeah, not much has updated lately and not much to say. School workload this semester is being a pain in the ass and actual work is an even bigger pain in the ass. Its not a _literal_ pain in the ass anymore, I'm doing data entry now (payroll, billing, taxes, etc), but the stress of worrying about getting things wrong (just started) does get to me... so uh... yeah, thats how things are going.

Edit: kinda just going through my backlog of things that just need editing to get back into the swing of things, so next thing up will probably be the next snip for this, Step Into the Black, Networked, or a Fallout N.V./Stargate one/two shot I started (not really sure where I would go with it).


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